The Placidity to My Misery
by smylekidd
Summary: Frank has been abused and has seen things that will haunt him for the rest of his life. However, there has always been one person that keeps him alive. When that certain someone is so suddenly whisked into his life, he will find himself fighting battles that could never be won and could never have been imagined. -Frerard Chapter Story- Sensitive Ideology
1. What's Life Like Bleeding on the Floor?

It's a dark and cold January night. I lay wide awake under the covers of my pitch-black room, unable to fall asleep. My mind is constantly attacking me with the scenarios that have kept me awake for years. I don't need to fall asleep to have nightmares, I can produce them with ease very simply.

My terrors are left for me to handle, as I have no one. Not a single soul cares for me. My mother was murdered by my father in front of my eyes when I was just a little kid, scarring me forever with the sounds of her screams. Her enormous, violet eyes fell vacant as she dropped suddenly to the dining room floor. I remember the look in my father's and glassy eyes. He looked of revenge and practically wild. His iris's stung my heart like shards to the skin, leaving a mark on me forever.

My father did not stop there, however. After months of court and trials, he was locked up for only a few years. During the time, I was left in the care of my grandparents. They were wicked people on my father's side. They abused me and locked me in the furnace room for days without proper daily needs. The cold ground pricked my bones with their icy touch. The rats and spiders haunted every crevice of the room. I only found peace in the blade my grandfather attempted to throw at me one night. Somehow, the hot blood took over my brain, causing a sensation of tranquility that I had never experienced. It was then that my habits began, and have never ceased to this day.

I was put back into the care of my father after his release. Being through hell and back at the age of seven is quite a lot to deal with, but my father never seemed to care. He would beat me and abuse me in more ways than one. Every night I would be taken over by insomnia and terrors, progressively getting worse. I would tell myself over and over that a person's life can't be hell forever. Something good has to happen at some point. However, each night this hope seemed more and more improbable. I began to believe that everyone hated me, which was probably true. Someone up there was enjoying themselves killing me from the inside out.

My screams were muffled in the pillows every night. My head burned violently from the horror that I was in. Nothing was alright. Nothing was okay. My knuckles were callused from punching the walls of my bedroom, leaving stains of ruby that faded to crimson. My brain and body were scarred forever. Nobody loved me.

Each and every day was another misery. At school I would be beat unconscious and verbally assaulted. They would yell: "Fag!" "Retard!" "Why don't you just kill yourself?"And I began to ask myself… Why don't I just kill myself? But I knew damn well why I couldn't just kill myself.


	2. It's Like Someone's Gripping my Throat

So here I am. Pathetic. Lying awake being eaten alive by my own fears. This could all end now if it weren't for the fact that I promised I would never leave without telling them. They deserved to know even if they would just put me into another coma after school. Then, after that, I could finally end it. All I had to do was face the fear and tell them. The problem was, I could not find and light of courage or hope that hadn't already been destroyed.

Finally distracted from my misery, I began to play over scenario and scenario of my confessions. Each sounded reasonable, until I seriously considered it. I couldn't even come to writing a note without a signature and shoving it through the crevices of their locker door. Everything just seemed to terrifying. I told myself that it would be all over afterwards anyways, but facing this was just something I could not do, even though I knew I had to. It was a bit like a dying wish.

I continued to run scenes from one ear to the other until morning broke. I did not want to cause more of a problem than my existence already was to my father, so I tore off the comforter and prepared for school. All my clothes were dirty, as cleanliness isn't as important as keeping yourself alive around here, so I simply grabbed the freshest pair of jet-black skinnies I could find and threw a Misfits tee over top. Diving into my desk drawer where I hid my personal treasures: eyeliner, a razor, and an old iPod, I collected the contents and rimmed my eyes with black. The remaining objects took home in my bookbag. I ruffled my hair and looked over myself in a cracked mirror hung on my wall. Nodding to myself, I began to head out my bedroom door.

"Ready for school, you faggot?" my father greeted my with his signature devilish smile.

I remained quiet, afraid to upset him in the slightest of ways. In my silence, I popped two slices of bread into the toaster and poured myself a travel cup of coffee. I did not want to spend any more time in this house than I needed to.

"I'm going to be late," I mumbled as I grabbed the toast and ran out the door, hearing my dad scream profanity at me from inside. I promptly threw the bread on the ground and ran to school. I wasn't hungry.

I reached the stairs leading to the main entrance of the school, when I heard the beginning of my daily morning verbal abuse. Clutching my coffee cup tight, and re-adjusting my bookbag, I kept walking past them.

"Where do you think you're going?" one of them spat.

Before I knew it, another grabbed my shoulder and whipped me around. I wasn't fighting back, and so it only took seconds for me to end up on the asphalt. The leader of the group, as it looked, took my coffee cup and poured it onto my face, burning my skin and leaving me sticky. They then began to kick me until I felt blood tricking off of my face. Laughing, they strode away. I was so exhausted that I remained half-awake on the hard ground, waiting for something, anything to make the pains go away. For a split second, when I opened my eyes, I saw someone with raven hair and hazel eyes staring at me with a look of hurt. Someone that… I owed something to. I blinked once to make sure this was real, but when I opened my eyes again, they were gone.


	3. Just Go, Run Away

I slowly eased up off the ground, still confused as to whether what I saw was an illusion or not. Before heading off to first period, I dusted my jeans and headed to the restroom to clean to blood off my face. The damage wasn't too bad, not even close to the worst I had received. I used a few paper towels soaked in water to dab the red liquid from me.

In class I listened to my music on full blast all period. Miss Stein, my English teacher, used to write me detention slips for it, but since I never stop she just lets it go. As long as I turn in something, she doesn't care; most of the time it's not like I am even in my classes. I just sit in the back and turn up my headphones for an hour. My teachers never seem to mind anymore.

The school day went by drearily and I had gone through my playlist seven times. It was getting to the point where I could predict the next song. I slammed my locker door and pulled my sweatshirt hood over my head to perhaps fool the jocks outside. It was highly unlikely, but you should never underestimate the stupidity of people. I was walking down the school's steps, thinking I was safe, when one of them noticed me.

"Well looky here! It's Frank the Fag!" the leader sneered.

I just re-adjusted my hood and kept walking, hoping to avoid another incident. I did not exactly like being beaten every morning and afternoon.

"Aw, come here, Frank! I just wanted a little kiss," one of the other jocks joked, making a kissy face. He then spit on me as one of his companions approached me and threw me to the ground yet again.

"Uh…hey," I heard a voice faintly mumble. My head was spinning, and I could not properly orient myself.

"Are you…alright?" the voice continued. I could only answer with a groan.

"What happened?" I managed as my senses began to return to me.

"Uh…the jocks beat you up and you lost consciousness,"

"Again," I sighed.

"This happens," they gulped, "often?"

"Yeah,"

I stood up unstably and looked down at the owner of the voice. He had long, black midnight hair that sloppily framed his ghostly white face. His penciled eyeliner rimmed hazel oceans of eyes in a manor that gave him a look of dark angels. Even his eyelashes fluttered long and black the same sense.

He was wearing a crimson tee shirt that hugged his perfect frame attractively. His dark skinny jeans had hand-cut tears in various random spots and were splattered on the left side with white paint. He was sporting Chucks that were adorned with checkered laces and a few black-and-white string bracelets on his right arm. He looked… perfect.

I suppose I was just staring at him in awe for way too long because his white cheeks were replaced with ones of maroon. He flipped his hair over his eyes in one solid motion and I lead my gaze to the ground embarrassed.

"Oh," he whispered almost inaudibly. With that, he rose up from his kneel and looked at me repeatedly while adverting his hazels in-between. It was quite adorable.

"Yeah," I replied in the same tone. I wasn't sure where this conversation was going. I was so nervous to even have him acknowledge me. Then it all hit me like a ton of bricks. This perfect guy had made sure I was okay… while I was unconscious…after being beaten up by jocks… and was about five hundred social classes above me.

"Why," I choked on my words, "why were you concerned about me?" I asked. It was only moments after when I realized what I had said. I slapped my handover my mouth and turned around so I wouldn't have to face him.

"I…I'm sorry," I croaked, trying my best not to cry. I took off running to my house and never stopped once to look back. What if he had been calling my name? What if he had wanted me to turn around and come back? I shook these silly thoughts from my head with a slightly psychotic laugh and locked myself in the solitude of my bedroom, ignoring my father's snide comments.

Sprawled out on my bed, I began to relive the past moments over and over in my head. It was crazy to think about; how I was face-to-face with an angel of grace and gothic perfection. It was insane to imagine that I, Frank Iero, the loner-emo-gay-loser-kid, had been approached by him. No matter how hard I tried, I could not wipe the goofy smile I had spread across my lips from my face. For once, the sounds of broken glass and curses coming from downstairs, and the physical pain from daily beatings, and even the mental scars from years in living hell just seemed to fade away as I spent the remainder of the evening daydreaming about him. Seeing his face just made it all melt away. Hearing his voice stitched together my ripped heart. Feeling his touch patched up all the holes inside of me. I felt… okay.

I wonder if he has known he was always the one keeping me alive. I wonder if he had known that I had always been in love with him. I wonder what he would say if I told him that I put down the razor so many times for him. I wonder what we would say if I told him my story and how he got me through it. And I wish I would have stayed just a little longer to see what he would have said when I asked him why he was concerned about me.


	4. My Way Home is Through You

I woke up the next morning from the sounds of my father screaming at me from down the stairs. Little did he know, he interrupted my pleasant dreams of the events from yesterday and how I twisted them into perfect scenarios. I was beaming from ear-to-ear, despite my horrid life. Even though I had probably embarrassed myself so badly that he would never want to talk to me again, I had still seen him; looked into his eyes. His perfect, perfect eyes.

Before I headed out the door, I grabbed a Pop Tart and some orange juice. My head was so filled up with glee that I did not even process the terrible words my father was spitting at me. Instead, I practically bounced out the door and floated through the air to school.

The kids outside the main doors yelled profanity at me, but I just ignored them. I marched right up to the entrance and straight to my locker. I felt so alive for once, but that all came to a harsh stop when I saw him walk through the double-doors. My knees went weak and butterflies came over me. I hid my face behind my locker door, hoping it would shield me. I hoped and prayed he was not coming my way. Behind me, I heard footsteps and without thinking, I grabbed my books, slammed my locker, and practically ran away. I was almost all the way down the hall when I turned my head back to see him still standing in front of my locker door, staring at me with hopeful eyes.

The last bell rang for the day and I practically flew out of my seat. I was determined to make it to my locker and mad dash out the doors before I had to face him. It was kind of funny how things had so suddenly taken a change. It seemed only moments ago that I was floating on air and then popped suddenly like a balloon.

My plan was following through smoothly. I was headed out the doors and through the grassy area. It was only a few steps until I would reach the sidewalk and be on my usual route home. However, I had a bit of an interference with my schedule.

"Uh…hey," I heard a familiar voice call from behind me. I turned around instinctively and soon regretted it.

"Hey," I mumbled shyly. I could feel my face go red.

"Uh, are you, uhm, blushing?" he asked.

"What? Um, no. Uh…uh…" I was stuttering and could not help it. Just his presence was making me shaky.

"Are you okay?"

"I'm, uhm, fine. I, uh, have to go now…bye," I turned around, staring at the grass. Here I was again, making a complete and utter idiot of myself.

"Hey, look. I, uh, I wanna talk to you about…uh, yesterday. So, could you maybe, possibly meet me at, uh, Starbucks or something…tomorrow…maybe?" he looked shy as well, also staring at the ground. I also noticed a slight pink tint to his cheeks.

"Uh…yeah… that would be…great. What, uhm, time?"

"I-I'll meet you after the last, uh, bell… if that's alright…" he questioned unsurely.

"That's…that's fine."

"Uh, cool. I'll be," he cleared his throat, "waiting for you outside,"

I nodded my head slightly and turned around to walk home before I did anything else to further embarrass myself. I was only a few steps away when he called to me once again.

"Uh, hey, uhm, wait!"

I stopped, confused and looked back. "Yes?" I asked, puzzled.

He shook his head violently and suddenly as if he had abruptly changed his mind. "N-n-nevermind."

I nodded questioningly and turned to attempt my route home, this time without any interruptions. The whole way, I wondered what he had to ask me. The suspicion was killing me. Maybe he was going to say that he was looking forward to tomorrow. Or perhaps he would tell me the answer to my question from yesterday that kept bugging me inside. Maybe he was even going to say that he liked me! Whoa, slow down there, brain. There is no chance in Hades that he would have said that.

All the positive things I was thinking were crowding my head so full that it was like a slap in the face when I realized that negative responses were possible as well. Maybe he was going to cancel. Perhaps he would tell me that I was a freak and to go away. These thoughts carried my all the way home. When I walked through the front door, I was already in a bad mood, so my dad was NOT a pleasant sight. Somehow, I had escaped being beaten up to-day but I had a feeling that wasn't going to last for much longer.

"Hello, worthless," my dad smiled.

I tried my best to ignore him and sauntered into the kitchen to grab some Oreos. They were my favourite after-school snack. At least going home had one perk. Although, I'm not sure chocolate-and-crème cookies make up for all the horrible things I have to deal with each and every day.

"Are you hard of hearing?" he continued.

I grabbed around five and turned away to walk to my bedroom. I just didn't want to talk to my dad. Not now and not ever. However, I could feel him looming over me like a phantom. I knew he wouldn't leave until I gave him what he wanted.

"You should really talk to your own dear father. I won't be here forever, you know." My dad sneered.

I reached my door and threw my things inside the room with rage. I could feel my face getting very hot. Marching down the hallway and up to my father, I spit at him and yelled, "THE SOONER THE BETTER!"

"Now don't be like that. That would mean I would have to see that bitch again,"

"MY MOTHER WAS NOT A BITCH. You disgust me," I cried.

"She was and you are, too. It runs in the family, I suppose. It only makes sense that she would give birth to a little faggot like you,"

I was on the brink of tears and knew I had to be strong. My father would NEVER see me cry. Instead, I stood up tall and took a deep breath.

"Well maybe you guys wouldn't have to deal with worthless little me if you HADN'T FUCKING RAPED HER!" I screamed in his face, making him laugh his horrid, ugly laugh.

"Oh, Frank. You get yourself so worked up sometimes. But I think I know how to make it all better. What do you say?"

"KEEP YOUR FUCKING SELF OUT OF ME!" I couldn't take it anymore. I ran straight to my room and slammed the door behind me. I lept onto my bed and cried. I cried for hours until my head was beating so heard I felt like throwing up. Then, I resorted to my blade. I knew I shouldn't, but who would care? I was certain there was only one thing keeping me on this Earth.

One person.

Gerard Way.


	5. Would You Bury Me?

School had just let out and the butterflies engulfed me. To-day was the day that I was going to Starbucks with Gerard. I wondered what he wanted to tell me, especially what he was going to tell me yesterday when he suddenly changed his mind. All the questions were killing me inside, but I had a feeling that I was going to get answers, no matter negative or positive.

I grabbed my bookbag from my locker and headed down the front steps. Luckily, I had escaped the jocks once again. Perhaps, my luck was beginning to turn. I laughed bitterly at this ridiculous thought. Once in the student parking lot, I saw a figure of a gorgeous male waiting patiently by a maple tree. He saw me coming and crept a smile onto his face. This smile was followed by a pink blush, causing him to turn his focus to the ground.

I smiled slightly back, walking up to greet him. "Hey," I said almost inaudibly.

"Hey," he returned, still looking at the ground.

"You okay?"

"Uhm, yeah. Well, let's go," he trailed off.

Gerard led me to his car. It was black and extremely shiny, as if it had never been driven, but I had seen it in the lot plenty of times before. I got in on the passenger side, of course, leaving Gerard to be the driver. He silently walked around and stepped inside. I had never owned a car at all, much less one like this. It was quite amusing to even think of asking for a car. My father's reaction would be memorable, that was for sure.

We had just pulled out of the school's driveway, when Gerard leaned his right hand over and turned on the radio. I had to admit, it was getting awkward in here. I had never spoken to Gerard once and all this sudden interaction was confusing me.

If my social awkwardness wasn't so terrible, I would have asked him what station was playing. It seemed that he liked the same kinds of music I did, and I had to admit… that made him even more attractive. Bands like The Misfits and Black Flag came flowing from the speakers. I was elated to finally find someone who wasn't brainwashed into listening to the crap music everyone else did.

We arrived at the coffee shop in decent time. Both of us stepped out of the car and Gerard locked it afterwards. He tossed the keys up once, then caught them again I his hand. We were walking in the doors when I realized something. I didn't have any money.

When we reached the counter, I was beginning to panic. What was I going to do? I obviously wasn't going to order anything, but then that would just make me look like a deadbeat in front of Gerard. I already was not good with social situations, and this was not helping at all.

"What can I get you guys?" a tall, red-haired waitress asked. She had her hair down and a big bow on the side. Her nametag read, "Cory."

Gerard recited a complicated-sounding coffee with terms I had ever heard before. I just stood there dumbfounded, I wasn't really coffeehouse-savvy.

"What about you, Frank?" Gerard asked me.

"Oh, uh, I'm fine… I don't want anything," I stuttered.

"Aw, come on, Frank, you must want something,"

I looked down at the ground and whispered, "I-I don't have any m-money,"

Gerard looked shocked for a second, but simply shook his head and told the waitress, "Make that two,"

After Gerard payed for the drinks, he led me over to the pick-up counter. I will still so shocked he would do something like that for me. No one had ever done, well, anything nice to me ever.

"Gerard, you didn't have to do that,"

"Frank, I would not make you sit there and watch me drink a delicious cup of coffee in front of you, that's terrible,"

"But," I swallowed hard, "You don't have to be nice to me,"

"Wha-why wouldn't I?"

"Beca-"

"Order for a Gerard Way!" Corey, our waitress, called out. We picked up our beverages and went over to a little table in the far corner of the coffeshoppe that sat two people.

"So…" I trailed off. My awkwardness was once again getting the best of me.

"Uh, Frank, I-uh, can I ask you some questions?" Gerard began. My stomach dropped at his request.

"S-sure…sh-shoot,"

"Well, uh, to start with… why were you unconscious that day when I found you?"

I laughed bitterly, "Oh, just the daily beating, as usual."

Gerard flushed red, "Oh…" he remarked surprised and shyly.

"What's next?"

"Uh, uh," I could see he was having a hard time getting over that first one, "W-why did you run away after you asked me why I was worried about you?"

Yet again, I was engulfed in butterflies and could feel my cheeks beginning to burn. I looked around frantically and nervously, while biting my lip. Finally, I closed my eyes tight and took a deep breath.

"I ran away because no one cares about me, so why should you? My family hates me, my classmates hate me, I have no friends, no one to talk to, I can only find peace in my-" I stopped talking, knowing I had gone too far.

"Your what?" Gerard was staring at me with deep concern. It would break my heart to scare him or worry him in any way.

"My…my…uhm, my…my…" How could I tell him? I just looked into his eyes and saw his sadness. I could never tell him.

"Frank? What is it?" he asked, looking more and more pale.

"It's my… music…" That wasn't a complete lie, I suppose.

Gerard didn't look convinced. "Okay, uh, well, I-I-uh, I was also wondering if-if you, if… you… what-what you… what you thought, I-I would s-say… maybe?"

He looked like a nervous wreck. Why was he sweating so much? And why was he blushing crimson? His adorable face made me a little more nervous, myself, but I managed to answer as best I could.

"Well, I-I, I thought you would say something like, 'I wasn't, I just wanted to see if they beat you dead,' or like, 'Who said I did?'" I choked out.

He looked very hurt. "You, you really think that's what I thought?" he barely whispered.

"Y-yes. That's what everyone else would have said…"

We sat in silence for what seemed as forever. I could see tears forming in his eyes. I instantly felt terrible for accusing him of this, even if I really did think that. It was just too much to see him like this. Finally, though, he spoke.

"Well, just remember this: I do care about you," after he said this he clamped his hand over his mouth and flushed redder than I had ever seen before. His eyes were huge, realizing his slip of the tongue.

"I'm sorry," he said so quietly, he almost mouthed it. After speaking, he took off running for the Mens Room, leaving me sitting there in shock with no idea what to do.


	6. House of Wolves

Finally, I woke up from my state of shock. To make sure this was real, and not just some weird dream, I counted the events that had recently happened on my fingers. One; I got beat up. Two; Gerard found me. Three; I had a slip-of-the-tongue and ran home. Four; I saw him the next day and asked me to come with him to Starbucks. Five; We arrived at Starbucks after school to-day. Six; He asked me some questions. Seven; He told me he cared about me and then fled to the restrooms. That led me up to present time.

What was I going to do? This all seemed to unreal. I had always loved Gerard, and only a few days ago he was just thrown into my life. I was just a loner emo kid and now I was having social interactions with another person? The whole situation seemed made-up. I pinched myself once, just to clarify that this was actually happening, and gathered what little courage I had. I was going to go talk to Gerard.

I walked into the men's room quietly and found him looking into one of the mirrors hanging on the wall. I don't think he saw me, so I took the time to study him. He was bright red and was holding his raven hair tightly with his right hand. The other hand was gripping onto the edge of the counter. I looked a little closer and noticed that he was crying. I saw two tears drip from his chin and decided to approach him.

"Hey," I spoke softly and walked up beside him. He looked startled and dropped his hand to wipe off his face.

"Hey," he mouthed, too upset to speak.

"You okay?" I asked gently, trying to be careful with his feelings. It would kill me to hurt him.

"I-I don't know," he whispered.

"What's wrong? Why did you leave?"

"I-I'm sorry, I-I get really nervous and I jus-just, I say stuff and I-I don't mean to it-it's just-" he tried to speak, still crying.

"Hey, hey, it's alright." I put my hand on his back and he jumped a little. I looked down at the floor. "Sorry, I'm really bad at this… I don't really… have any friends or… anyone, really…"

"Fr-Frank, I-I'm so sorry…" he looked down at me.

I laughed bitterly, "It's fine, I'm so used to it. It's just weird talking to another human being that isn't trying to smash my face in..." I looked up and made my facial expression serious, "Which you aren't, are you?"

"Of c-course not!" he stated firmly.

"I-I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said that. I know you wouldn't and-" I cut myself off and took a deep breath, "Look Gerard, you are the most amazing person ever and you don't deserve to be stuck in a Starbucks bathroom with a stupid loser like me, alright?"

Gerard had grown a bit calmer and looked at me to say, "Frank, you're not a loser, you're awesome, okay? Don't put yourself down so much."

I sighed and wet a paper towel. I used it to clean the tears from Gerard's face. He remained quiet the whole time, but sniffled occasionally. When I was finished, I threw away the paper towel and walked up to a mirror. I stared at my reflection and frowned. _No wonder everyone hates me, _I thought to myself.

I had completely forgotten Gerard was still there when he asked, "What's wrong?" I waved it off with my hand, not caring to explain at the moment. He looked at me, knowing I was lying but then proposed, "Let's get you home."

I stepped out of the car as Gerard waved goodbye. Overall, I had had quite a good time with him. He was so unique and creative; everything I wished I was. I wondered if he knew how important he was to me…

"Bye, Frank," he spoke shyly and blushed a bit.

I smiled at him, for once actually smiled at someone, and replied, "Bye, Gerard."

I watched him drive away and gathered the nerve to walk inside my house. It would probably be a regrettable decision to walk inside the home, and I could always find a nice… park bench to sleep on if I had to.

Finally, I took a deep breath and walked as silently as possible through the door. Just when I thought I was safe, I spotted my dad on the couch, as usual, trashing the floor with empty beer bottles and finished off bags of crisps that I was going to have to clean up later. I tried my best to sneak past him unnoticed, but nothing gets past dad, I suppose.

"Going somewhere, Frankie-pie?" dad sneered and spit at my feet.

I closed my eyes and continued walking to my room. This wasn't something that I needed to deal with right now. I had a lot of current issues to sort out, and I was sure that my father couldn't possibly be a help.

"Don't ignore me, you worthless little queer!" he yelled.

He was getting angry and nothing I could say would make him calm down. I began to get a really horrid feeling in the pit of my stomach, like something terrible was about to happen. It was one of those nights when my dad got very drunk, and in conclusion, very violent.

"You ruined this family, you could at least acknowledge your own FATHER."

"You are NOT my father, and you are personally responsible for this huge mistake you made," I spat, gesturing to myself.

"You are an ugly little gay princess, you know that?" he whispered into my ear.

I smacked him in the face to get him off of me, but he tackled me to the ground and squeezed my face in between his hands so tightly, I thought my skull was going to break.

"Now, Frankie, we don't hit our daddies. Our daddy isn't a little faggot like you. He has friends and isn't a failure. Daddy is-"

"ALRIGHT!" I screamed, squirming to try to get him off of me. "I GET IT!" I was crying now. This was too much. I was trying hard not to break and let him see me weak, but I couldn't help it at this point.

"I'm a failure loser emotional gay fuck! Why don't I just kill myself! Will that make you happy?" I yelled, still tearing.

He laughed at this and picked up a beer bottle from the ground. I was terrified at what was coming next. I was sure this would be the day that I died. In my head, I told Gerard that I loved him, and that was all. Who else did I love? I had no friends, no loving family; no one. My dad was right; I was a worthless fuck.

"Oh Frankie," my father began, and smashed the beer bottle on the wooden flooring. The impact broke the bottle, creating many sharp points of green glass. He held this over my face and smiled a bit psychotically.

"Of course not," he laughed and slashed the bottle on my face, I believe. I was slipping away into a darkness of some sort. Perhaps a bit unconscious, or if I was lucky, death. I heard myself scream in pain. My face felt numb and then began to burn profusely. Pools of warm liquid were falling from my face. Even though I couldn't see correctly, I was still able to come into tune with my other senses for just a few more seconds.

Before I slipped off into the darkness, I heard my dad say with such a tone of voice that you could hear his horrid smile, "Then I would have no one to fuck with."


	7. If You Wanted Honesty

I woke up the next morning with a strong migraine. Rubbing my head, I tried to piece together what had happened last night. I remembered coming home from something and seeing my dad thinking how horrible it was to see him, but any events after that I drew a blank. After a few minutes, I drew my hand back and walked to the mirror, thinking my hand felt a bit sticky.

"Oh, fuck," I breathed, completely stunned.

I looked in the mirror in front of me and saw a huge, bloody gash on my forehead. It was then when the events flooded back to my mind. I remembered going to get coffee with Gerard and then being stunned at his conversation. I recalled comforting him and then coming home to meet my drunk of a father. I remembered feeling a bit queasy about the night and then seeing a broken glass bottle come in contact with my head.

I sighed and looked down at my bedroom floor. My carpet, bedsheets, and clothes that I had strewn on the floor were now crisp with dried blood. My room smelled slightly of rust and salt. Sure I had seen blood before, but not this excess of an amount for a while.

Somewhere as I was taking in the situation, I realized that I had school. I strode in the bathroom next to my room and rinsed some water over my hair and forehead to try to present myself somewhat decently. It also hit me that I would have to see Gerard to-day. How could I ever explain this? I would just have to try and avoid him. It couldn't be that hard; the weekend was only hours away.

Throwing on a Misfits tee and my favourite pair of skinnies, I rehearsed what excuses I might use on Gerard. None of them seemed believable, but I would have to settle for one. Before I attempted to sneak out of the house unseen, I created black rings around my eyes with an eyeliner pencil. The blood had somewhat washed away, but since I had woken up so late I wasn't able to clean it all off. Not to mention the metallic smells of the substance lingered on my black locks.

I was almost to the schoolyard when I saw Gerard talking to a couple of his friends in front of the main entrance. I wasn't sure what to do. There was no way I could use any of the staff entrances, as the jock homophobes always guarded them fiercely. Just the thought of walking by them made me shudder in terror. Luckily, I had grabbed a black hoodie on the way out of my personal hell of a home, and used the hood to cover my face. Careful to remain unnoticed, I kept my head down to the ground.

I finally reached the door, however I didn't know if he had spotted me. Once inside the door, I practically ran to first period. On the way through the hallway I was getting all kinds of glances and it was then when I realized that I had in no way attempted to cover up my forehead. There was much I could do except try to place my fringe over it, but that would never work for more than five minutes. I would just have to accept all the bad looks.

The whole class period I sat at the back of the room with my head facing down to my desk. From the corners of my eyes, I could see my peers pointing at me and laughing. Who would care about a loser like me?

The bell rang and I made my escape. However, before I could take two steps whilst outside the classroom, I was pushed to the ground fiercely.

"What happened to you, fag? Finally get what you deserve?"

This didn't take me by surprise. Getting beat down is a common thing, it happens every day. When they were done with their fun, which consisted of kicking me hard a couple of times, I stood up shakily and tried to gather my books. I was determined to get out of the current of the hallways. Once to the side, I was free of most of the commotion. However, my luck turned when I rounded the corner. I bumped into something, or someone.

"Oh, hey, sorry abou-"

My eyes grew wide when I realized who it was. Of course the beating knocked the fringe away from my forehead, and my hands were full of books so I couldn't move it back into place.

"Frank?" Gerard asked, worried.

"What happened to you?"

"Uh…nothing…" I tried. I was not a very convincing liar. The huge gash on my forehead probably had something to do with it as well….

"Come with me. Now."

"But Gerard, I-" I stuttered, but he interrupted me.

"I don't give a fuck! Follow me right now!"

Gerard led me by my arm to the alleyway behind the gym. I had never really been back here before since I knew it was where all the "cool guys" made out with the cheerleaders between classes and after school let out. This realization led to many questions; _Does Gerard come back here often? I wonder if he has a girlfriend. I wonder if he likes the cheerleaders. Should I try to play a sport now? Nah, I suck at sports I would get myself murdered…. Wait, I don't even know if he's gay! I bet he's straight, he's too hot…_

My thoughts were suddenly interrupted by a very concerned Gerard.

"WHAT happened to you?" he asked, sounding extremely worried.

"Nothing happened! Just an accident! C'mon we're going to get detention…"

"I don't care! Tell me what _really_ happened to you."

"I just came home a slipped on the kitchen floor and sliced my head open on the counter." I lied badly.

"Why didn't your mum or someone take you to the hospital then?" he demanded.

"Well, she wasn't home last night…" I attempted to keep the lie going strong. He didn't need to be any more worried about me and _certainly_ did not need to confront anyone about my dad.

"Okay, your dad then?"

"He… uh… is out of town on a… business trip," I stammered.

Gerard looked skeptical. "Alrighty then why didn't you ask anyone to take you or at least look at it?"

"I…uh… because I'm fine!" I yelled, determined to make my point.

"Bullshit! You have a bloody gash in your head!"

I insisted, "I'll be fine,"

"But I don't think you are." He replied, his eyes shining a bit in the crisp air of the morning.


	8. Drop the Dagger and Lather

"Look," I rubbed my forehead slightly, afraid to break it open again. "Just a scratch."

"That's not 'just a scratch', Frank. Your forehead is busted open and I know damn well you didn't do that by falling into a counter."

I didn't know how to respond, so I just stood there like an idiot. What could I say? I sure as hell did not know. I couldn't just tell him the truth, no way. So, I just decided to stand there like a deaf mute.

"Frank, I know someone did that to you and I'm going to find out who. And when I do, I'm going to beat that fucker into a coma." Gerard growled. His eyes shined and he looked extremely fierce. It was…hot. Very hot.

"Hey, calm down. One more scar won't matter!" I mentally facepalmed. _You idiot!_ I cursed at myself.

Gerard responded quietly, "What-what are you talking about?"

I sighed. I wouldn't show him my wrist scars, but I could show him the others. Turning to face the wall, I pulled my shirt off and held back tears.

"Oh, Frank…" he almost whispered.

I felt his icy hands trace over each scar on my back. There were tiny ones scattered all over my skin and a long one that reached from the back of my neck to my waist on the opposite side. As he went over each one, I recalled how it was formed and started to weep.

"Frank," he tried again, hugging me from behind. I tried not to sob, but it was so hard. Each mark was put there as a reminder of what a failure I was. There was, however, one I hadn't shown him yet.

I turned around to face him and gave a weak smile. He gasped loudly and his eyes filled with salty water. I knew he could see it. No one could miss it. It was there, engraved on my body forever. Nothing could make it go away. Even if it was somehow removed, no one could take back the memories of how it was carved into me.

Tears were streaming down my face, hot and salty. I was biting my lip so hard I could feel the metallic blood oozing out of the wound I had created. I was falling apart and there was nothing I could do to help it. No one was supposed to see me like this.

I looked up to see Gerard crying as well, but hiding his face underneath his midnight hair. He pulled me close with one arm and held me tight. It felt wrong to be comforted. I had never had anyone before. The whole concept of "friendship" was so new to me. I was always alone.

However, no matter how wrong it seemed to feel, it felt so right at the same time. I felt Gerard's warm, cotton shirt against my bare chest. His shirt smelled like him and it made me feel better. Just the contact from him made me okay. If he had only given me a high-five I would have felt one million times better than whatever I felt like before. Every time I saw him, it seemed to create a happier world where I could just exist without fear and pain and agony. It felt…perfect.

We stayed pressed together for minutes on end. Together, we skipped the rest of the school day and walked to the park, just enjoying each other's presence. I had recollected my shirt, and was hiding my scars. We sat down in the grass by the swingsets and talked for hours. We chatted about music, movies, schoolwork, the teachers we hated the most, video games, and stupid celebrities. It was the best day of my life. However, things began to turn when Gerard changed subjects.

"So, Frank, what's your family like?"

I felt my heart sting. My eyes were holding back tears, but I managed a halfhearted response. "They're…nice…and I-I-uh…what's your family like?"

"Oh, well my mum is nice and I have a brother named Mikey who is my best friend," he spoke.

"What about your dad?" I asked, genuinely interested.

"He-uh, left when I was really little so I don't know who he is," he softly confessed.

"If it makes you feel any better, I…uh…lost my mum when I was little," It wasn't a complete lie. I did lose her, but she just will have no chances of ever coming back.

"I guess we're kind of the same then," he smiled weakly.

I replied to his comment with a bitter laugh. "Oh, Gerard, trust me, you don't want to be anything like me."

To this, he turned his head to the side and moved it close to my face. It was so close that I could feel his warm breath that smelled of coffee and…booze? I grew a bit worried.

Gerard looked directly into my eyes, his face still just inches away and whispered, "I'm sure it could never be as bad as me." He then pushed my shoulders back to the ground and propped himself up on top of me.

"You don't know, Frank…" he trailed off.

"I-I don't know what?" I shakily responded.

He moved his face close to mine once again, this time almost laying on top of me. I could feel a bit of a "problem" arise from inside of my jeans.

"You don't know how long…" he spoke below a whisper. Gerard then collapsed onto the ground beside me and crawled into a ball on the grass. I pulled him close to me, never wanting to let him go. I felt protective of him, as if he were my treasured stuffed animal. No one would hurt him as long as I was here.

Minutes ticked by, and we fell asleep on the dirty and grassy terrain of the park. When we woke up, we just sat together like we had been doing all day. It was peaceful until I received a flashback as I did so often.

"_You horrible excuse for a son! How could you kill her! Why did you? She never deserved a faggot like you! You should go kill yourself for what you have done!" _

"_No daddy! Stop!" _

"_SHUT UP, YOU WORTHLESS LITTLE FUCK!"_

_Tears were streaming hopelessly from my eyes, burning inside of me. My father had cut me several times with a blade on my back and I was pooling blood from every spot on my body. It was no use stopping him, I was too little, only nine years old. No one could stop him._

"_JUST DIE! I'M GOING TO KILL YOU!" he screamed._

_With harsh movements, he pulled me onto his bed and stripped me of my clothes. I was screaming bloody murder, but it made no difference to him. He was having too much fun watching me turn the snow-white sheets pitchfork red. _

_He did horrible things to me. He cut me and beat me and bruised me. Afterwards, he shoved himself inside of me._

"_YOU FAGGOT! HOW DO YOU LIKE THAT? JUST DIE! PLEASE! I HATE YOU!" he screamed, crying and gleaming eyes of desperate revenge._

"_DADDY! Please stop! You're hurting me! I'm going to die!" _

"_I HOPE YOU DO! JUST GET OUT OF MY LIFE! YOU'VE RUINED EVERYTHING, DON'T YOU SEE? YOUR BLOOD IS THE ONLY PART OF YOU I LIKE TO SEE." He yelled manically, showing all of his teeth. My father was going mentally insane with twisted pleasure._

_Just before he left me alone on the sheets to die, he took the bloody knife he had already put to use and held my shoulders down so hard I thought he had broken them. He carved each letter slowly and painfully and watched each one fill with apple-red until he moved on to the next. Through each stroke I screamed and cried, making him dig deeper into my skin. I knew I was going to die that night. There was nothing I could do._

_When he was finished with his fun, he turned out the light and left me to lay there, helpless. I heard his mad laughter from down the hallway and gave up. I gave up on my life and let the blood flow out. I didn't have enough energy to keep going. I knew that this was the end, but something screamed at me to keep going. _

_Laying on the sheets I remembered a boy from school whom I had always fancied. He had long raven hair and his skin was pale like a ghost. He was a bit shy and was always colouring. I had never gathered the courage to talk to him, but that night I promised myself that I wouldn't leave this earth until I told him how I felt about him. Then, I could end it all._

_The pain flew back to me and I began to scream again. Nothing could ever silence this pain in me. It was too harsh. _

"_DADDY!" I yelled with furious agony. "DADDY!"_

"DADDY!"

"FRANK!"

I felt someone shaking me. I opened my eyes to see Gerard staring at me with full, scared eyes. He held me tight.

"Frank, what happened?" he asked shakily.

"Just-just a fl-flashback…"

I lifted off my shirt with Gerard still holding me. With my right index finger, I traced over each letter, remembering the acute pain for each one. This time, I had Gerard to dilute it, but I could still feel the blade drag into me. As I finished tracing each word, I read it aloud, speaking slowly and strongly.

"Die. You. Fuck."


	9. If I Crash on the Couch

"It's getting late… maybe I should go home now," I spoke softly. I did not want to go back to the hell that is my home, but keeping Gerard from getting home at eleven on a Friday night was a bit inconsiderate. His mom might get worried or scared or something; I'm not actually sure how moms are….

"Frank you are not going back to that man," Gerard fiercely commanded. He looked so protective of me, as if I was the young and he was the lion.

"Gerard, I have to go back sometime. It's my house…" I trailed off. I would get into even more trouble the longer I stayed away. Unfortunately, I had learned that the hard way.

"Come with me. You can spend the night at my house. My mom will not mind,"

"I don't want to intrude-"

"You aren't intruding." He insisted once again with that growl I found so attractive, yet commanding.

I then gave up and followed his footsteps towards his home in the dark shadowy night. We walked past the park in which many dead bodies had been found early in the mornings. In the late afternoons, cops would put up crime tape and investigate the scenes. In the midnight hours the victims would be robbed of their lives underneath the gloomy bridge stained red and marked with graffiti.

I was no stranger to this park. The term, "park" was not a fitting name for the area. However New Jersey is not known for its scenic family friendly playgrounds. It was a good place to just sit and think or be alone, as I was all the time. No one else would dare enter the brown-grassed terrain or asphalt sidewalks leading downwards to the underneath of the bridge except for me.

I was deep in thought when Gerard interrupted me with the melodious sounds of his deep and worrisome voice.

"Frank? You alright?"

"Uh, yeah,"

"Don't lie to me, Frank."

I stopped in my tracks and looked dead into Gerard's eyes. They were so beautiful, just like the rest of him. All I had ever wanted to do was just talk to him. I only ever wanted to tell him how I felt. I could not deny my pact to myself that I had invented all those years ago. But I looked deep into his hazels and still could not find the courage to do it.

"So, uh… this is my room," Gerard half-smirked.

We walked in the room, which happened to be in the basement. I smiled at this, thinking how perfectly it matched Gerard's personality; such a vampire. But a hot vampire. This made me grin even wider.

"What's with all the smiles?" Gerard asked skeptically, yet cheerily.

"Oh, nothing. Just thinking."

I took in Gerard's room and all its entirety. It was, by far, the coolest place I had ever laid eyes on. It was a bit messy, but it was not, by any means, filthy. The room welcomed me with posters of all my favourite bands stuck with blue putty to the black walls. The carpet was a crimson red and shaggy and soft. Gerard's bed was black-and-red plaid with fuzzy raven-coloured pillows adorning the headboard. Mounted to the wall above the bed was a bookshelf containing more comic books than I had ever seen before. The far corner had a black desk with a single lamp and scattered coloured pencils and acrylics. I noticed sketchbooks and loose papers laying all over the room. In the other corner, I spotted two beanbag chairs; one black and the other maroon, with a large white lamp in the shape of a chess piece.

I stood there just grinning at the essence of them all. Gerard's room was perfect and it reflected him in every way. I still could not believe that I was standing there… in Gerard Way's room. It was a feeling of pure happiness that is quite indescribable.

"You like it?" he asked, sounding a bit unsure. His feet were pigeon-toed on the floor and his hair was drooping over his eyes, hiding his perfect face. If I could have, I would have just kissed him right then and there, but I still could not find the courage.

"I love it," I genuinely smiled. It was true, I loved everything about it.

A couple minutes passed and we had just been aimlessly chatting on Gerard's bed. He then announced that he would go take a shower and to make myself at home until his return.

Curiosity got the best of me, and I walked over to Gerard's desk. There were papers strewn everywhere. I saw some poetry and paintings and sketches all lying out randomly over the surface. I grabbed a few papers and went to sit back down on the bed. The bed was one of my favourite places in his room. Not because of dirty-minded ideas, but because I could smell his scent strongly in the fabrics. It was comforting engulfing myself in him, in a sense.

The works I looked through were simply stunning. I saw perfect depictions of ghosts and vampires casting darkness and purity all at once. There were songs filled with sorrow and anguish that portrayed an element of beauty that I could not think to describe. Each paint's stroke stood out and each word danced on the tip of my tongue delightedly.

There was, however, one work that caught my eye. The painting was in a scheme of velvets, blacks, and purples. There was a figure, a little girl, with smeared eyeliner and spunky black hair. She reminded me a lot of Gerard, as she resembled him and his beauty. She looked scared, however, and she was sitting upright in a glistening coffin. Up to her head she held a metallic gun. My eyes traveled to the top of the page. Written in shaky, lavender, capital letters I read, "Leave a pretty corpse. Die Young."

The words stung me. I knew that Gerard had not just thought of these creations. It takes experience to create such works showing real pain and truth. All the sudden realization hit me like one hundred pounds of bricks. I wish I knew more about Gerard; his suffering and pain. I needed to know what was wrong so that I could attempt to protect him, as it was made my sworn duty.

Time ticked by and Gerard was still not back. I noticed that it had not actually been that long at all; only ten minutes perhaps. Once again, I grew curious and went around the room to see if I could discover anything else.

I decided not to look through any more of the artwork, as it was probably private and I had already peeked at some. Most of the items in the room were comic books and compact discs and I soon grew bored of searching. However, after I collapsed on Gerard's bed, I noticed something suspicious.

On the left side of Gerard's bed, there was a nightstand. It looked plain as could be just resting in its place, but I noticed that on the side of the square-shaped stand closest to the bed, there was a door. I wondered why anyone would need a door on the side of a bedside table when I realized that whatever was inside was meant to be kept a secret. This, of course, compelled me to figure out the contents of the table.

I tried to pull the latch open, but noticed a small silver lock such as one kept on a diary, but a bit larger and stronger. As a child, I remembered keeping a diary and I would always keep the key inside a little glass figure that resembled a turtle. However, if you pulled on the turtle's shell, you would find that it would open up to a sort-of secret hiding place that was perfect for my purposes.

I searched Gerard's room for a device similar to this and noticed a little bat figure on one of his shelves, halfway hidden behind comic books. I lunged for the bat and tugged on its right wing to discover that it was, indeed, the same concept as my turtle figure.

Using the key I had found in the bat, I unlocked the small lock and set it on the top of the table. I was a bit worried as to what I would find. It was obviously something that Gerard did not want anyone else to see. Negative thoughts invaded my brain, but I knew that I had to see or my curiosity could eat me alive.

Slowly, I creaked open the secret door to reveal its contents. Once fully open, light from the small ceiling lamp filed inside the now-open insides of the table. I ducked down the height of the table to look inside.

What I found was an entire nightstand filled with bottles of… booze?


	10. Through Your Playground Eyes

I was completely stunned. Worry filled me up like someone inflating a balloon. My Gerard has been poisoning himself with liquor. I had no idea what to do, but I knew that it would be best to just lock the nightstand back up and return the key to its home.

I was laying on Gerard's bed trying desperately to sort this newfound mess out when I heard a soft knock on the door. Gerard walked into the room in his boxers and wet hair looking, well, rather attractive. I had not noticed how long I had been staring at him until he looked at me and asked, "Are you alright, Frank?"

Being the socially awkward emotional teenage boy that I was, I simply nodded feeling completely and utterly like a moron. In return, Gerard smirked a bit, and walked over to his dresser I had not noticed until now. He reached inside and pulled out a red tee shirt and a pair of black sleep pants with skeletons plastered all over them.

"You won't mind if I just dress in here, will you?" he asked me, skeptically.

"Yeah, uh, that's-that's fine," I stuttered. Way to play it smooth, Iero.

Gerard gave me a little nod and pulled his shirt over his pale, white chest. Afterwards he bent over to step his legs into his pajama pants, giving me a very good 'view' of behind. I really had to stop staring...

Unfortunately, when Gerard turned around, he noticed me looking at him… again. This made him smile his charming, toothy grin. He slightly shook his head to settle some strands of hair over his eyes to hide his slight blush. When I fluttered back to reality, I returned the blush, only mine was more intense and I did not have any way of hiding it.

Time passed and we really did not feel like going to sleep. It was around one in the morning and we had taken to watching zombie movies in Gerard's living room. It was fun and all, but I could not stop reminiscing about all the events that had occurred in the past few days. Suddenly, a wild question appeared in my mind.

"Hey Gerard…" I began, shakily.

"Yeah, Frank?"

"Back when we were in the park, you said, 'You are not going back to that man.' How do you know my father?"

"Oh, uh, you caught that, did you? Uh, I…"

"Yeah?" I urged, more intrigued now than ever before.

"Well, you see, Frank…" Gerard began.

"Go on…" I urged.

"Uh, you know how we went to school together when we were really little kids?"

"Sure I do,"

"Well, before you moved away to a different development for a while," I cringed at this because I didn't really move away. This was the time period after my mother's murder, but before my stomach scar. When I moved to another house for a while, I was really at my grandparents house, locked away from school for weeks at a time thrown down there in the furnace room.

"Go on," I commanded shakily, tears forming in my eyes.

"Frank? Are you alright?"

"Yes." I told him a bit more harshly than I had intended, "Go on."

"Before you moved away, we used to live in the same area and I could never remember the route home. So after school was over, I used to trail behind you until we reached our development and I could spot my house. You used to live only two houses down in that blue one over there," Gerard motioned his hand to point in the direction of that house I used to call hell… I mean home. Not that my new one is any better.

I smiled ever-so-slightly, still with newforming tears in my eyes. I had never noticed that when I was a kid. Surely I would have, saying as I had taken such a fancy to him. However, he was so quiet and meek that I had never heard even one of his footsteps behind me.

"I remember one day you went inside your house and I heard a lot of screaming and glass bottles breaking. I was very scared, but did not go inside my house. Instead, I tiptoed up to one of the bushed that was underneath a window. I had a good view of the kitchen from there, and I used it to see what was going on. I remember seeing a lot of blood and beer bottles on the white-tiled floor. You were on the ground clamping a hand over a gash in your cheek and your father was grinning down at you. I was thoroughly terrified, I must say. He kicked you and hit you and the blood was spilling out. I was not sure what to do. I thought about calling an ambulance or telling my mother, but I was just so upset that your dad would see me and hurt you even more. I was just a little kid and I should have done something! I'm sorry Frank! I should have never let him keep doing that! I should have gotten help!" Gerard was streaming buckets of salty tears from his gorgeous hazel eyes.

Just the look of him in pain weakened me. That incident was not his fault! Whatever I did that day, I probably deserved. It hurt to know that Gerard had seen me in such a manor. I would never want to upset him, even thought I felt as though he could care less about me.

Still tearing, he continued, "A-after th-that I followed you all the way to your house every day and hid in the bushes until I was sure you were safe. Some days it would be a few m-minutes, some days for hours. And if your d-dad hurt you one day, I would tuck a pack of fruit gummies into your cu-cubby at school the next morning."

I was stunned. Why would he go through all the trouble for me? I was worthless!

"I-I thought the teacher did that…" I was at a loss for words.

"Nope, it-it was me," he was still a bit shaky. "And then you moved away and I couldn't check on you. I didn't know where you went! I looked inside the windows of the house every once in a while and even went in your room one time. You left this in there when you left."

Gerard walked over to his desk and pulled a little drawer out. Inside were coloured pencils and pens, but there was another item inside. Carefully, Gerard placed it inside his palm and brought it over to show me. Slowly, he turned out his fingers so that I could see the little object in the center of his palm.

I remembered the item so well. How could I forget it? I always went to that item after my dad beat me or when I felt particularly upset. That object gave me hope when I needed it and I recalled searching everywhere for it after the move. The object was not a blade or a bottle, but was kept inside a little tiny black box with the letters, "When You Go," scripted in red letters on the top. I had, in fact, taken the box with me and still had it in my room for all those years. I remembered how I had gotten the object and the box. A year after my dad had become very violent, my mother gave it to me for my birthday. That was the last present I had ever gotten, and the last time I had ever seen my mother. I would never forget that night.

I reached out to pick up the item in Gerard's hand with eyes filled with tears. He held it out to me, and I took it into my own palms. I smoothed my fingers over the surface of it and held it close to my chest, feeling as if my heartbeat would make her come back.

I then received a feeling of security that overwhelmed any sadness of the fact that I did not have it for the majority of my life. This thought comforted me. I felt as though the owner of the item was watching over me; first my mother, then Gerard. I grinned a teary smile at this revelation. I felt kind of okay at this moment. Even though I missed my mother terribly, it was a bit like I had someone else to protect me.

I ran up to Gerard and threw my arms around him. This caught him by surprise, I noticed. Did he think I would be upset?

"Frank, I'm sorry I took it… it probably meant a lot to you; I'm sorry! I just needed to remember you and this was a way to. After you left you still went to the same middle school as me, but I barely ever saw you! You were never at school! I was scared and worried. Even when you were at school everyone would always be so mean to you and I never did anything and I'm sorry! I-"

"Shh," I placed a finger over his lips. "You don't know how happy I am that you kept it. You watched over me… after she left. Thank you."

Gerard looked a bit confused as to what I meant, but did not feel the need to question it at this moment. I went to sit down on his bed, him trailing behind. Once we were comfortably placed, Gerard whispered to me, "I'm sorry I didn't help. I was scared,"

"It's okay, Gerard. You didn't do anything wrong."

"Yes I did! You were getting hurt! You could have died on many occasions! I never did anything!" he yelled, sending drops of salty water down his cheeks.

"Gerard, it's oka-"

"It's not okay! You were dying, Frank! Dying! He was killing you inch-by-inch every day! I didn't know where you went! I thought you were dead!" He was screaming now.

Gerard's face was hot and sticky from tears. I guided his head down to the pillow. I cooed him messages such as, "It's okay," and "I'm not that important, trust me."

Apparently he caught the last one and whispered, "You don't know, Frank. You don't know how long…"

I was unable to hear the rest of his sentence as he repeated it a few times before falling soundly to sleep.

"You don't know how long…. You don't know…how long…"

Gerard was so beautiful asleep. He was like an angel; my angel. If only he were mine…. But this event would never occur. It was probably best for me to leave his life now. His life would not benefit from me. It did cross my mind, however, why he cared so much about my health and state of being.

Before I lied down to doze off with Gerard, I held my long-lost item up to my eyes again. The object brought a slight smile to my face as I realized how much I had missed it. I placed a kiss on its surface before I returned it to its new home in Gerard's desk drawer. It felt better knowing that he had it.

I placed my head on the pillow, falling asleep with my last thoughts being of my precious possession; my first guitar pick. It was tied around a dogtag chain and tied onto the chain was a little strip of white ribbon. In my mother's best script in thin Sharpie marker, it read,

"Just know that I will remember you."


	11. Paint These Walls in Pitchfork Red

The next day, I walked to school with Gerard. The day went by as normal; was bored in class, peers beat me up in the hallways, tried to escape going home, but just got my ass beat again. It was not as bad, however. Gerard was able to walk out the front gates, but there was no way I could get away with that. I simply waved him a good-bye and headed out on my route home.

While I was walking I began to think about Gerard and I as little kids. I wished that I could still live in that blue house two doors down so he could trail behind me. I wished that I did not have to move to several different neighborhoods so that the neighbors would not call the police for disturbance on my father. I wished, most of all, that my mother would come back to protect me. I knew this was all too much to ask for, however I was comforted by the guitar pick. Gerard was watching over me now, that is, in my mind.

Snapping out of my daydream, I opened the front door to my shitty house. It was always a mess because my dad was always too drunk to clean it and I could not be a full-time maid because of school.

"Hey ass-wipe! Finally come home, eh?" My dad spit on me, acting as if I were a revolting piece of rubbish.

As always, I tried to walk past him and just ignore his snide comments. It was hard because every one of his wicked words stung. It hurt me on the inside, and later the out. It felt as if there were no escape.

"You think you can just walk away from me? Come back here!" To emphasize his point, he threw a green beer bottle at the back of my head. It wasn't hard enough to break on my skull, and the throw didn't have much impact either, allowing the glass to thankfully shatter on the floor. However, I had a huge bruise that left my head pounding afterwards. I could feel a bad migraine arising and I had a funny feeling that it was not going to go away easily.

As I was gripping the back of my head, my father came up to me and picked me up by the collar of my shirt. As usual, he began his torment by spitting in my face and declaring me, "garbage." He shoved me back as he let me down. Afterwards he lunged at me, throwing punch after punch, never missing. I was too weak to dodge his furious fists. The only time he stopped was to tilt back a bottle of alcohol into his despicable lips. The only thing I could detect in his eyes was rage and hatred. I never thought someone could be filled with that much anger, that much despise.

He sent a punch towards my lips, busting them open easily and allowing the cherry red blood to trickle down my chin. I watched as he smiled and pulled me up by my hair. I squirmed and wrangled, he was restricting me. It felt as if the top of my head was about to bleed. Those foul lips of his plastered onto mine, as his right hand smashed my face onto his. At first I screamed and cried for him to stop. What the hell was going on? Then I realized that he was licking the blood off of my mouth. Without second-guessing I wriggled a fist free and sent it flying into my father's face.

He yowled out in pain and madness. I gave him quite the purple bruise and felt rather proud of myself. But the happiness that I had felt only lasted for a few brief seconds before I watched him somewhat regain his balance. I sent a quick prayer to my mother, wherever she was, and readied myself for whatever he would do to me.

"You little fucker. I'll cut you apart and drink you bone dry. I hate you. You killed her. You made her die. YOU KILLED HER!"

His face was the deepest shade of crimson I had ever seen. His eyes were black with pain and insanity. He was trembling from every limb and his hair stood up in a mess, intensifying his look of fear itself staring me in the eyes.

Without a heartbeat from his black and empty chest, he reached out for a mahogany-coloured bottle and smashed it against the coffee table. Half of it broke away, leaving jagged teeth attached to the base of the bottle. My heart was racing and I regretted not telling Gerard how I felt. I knew it would be over for real this time. I had failed him.

My father marched up to me. He looked gruesome with his face covered in my blood and his clothes tattered and torn. With one strike, he slashed the skin on my face, allowing it to puddle around me in a sea of red. After the hit, my dad dropped his bottles and his eyes grew wide. He sank to his knees and screamed. Never before had I heard such a deranged, terrifying noise.

Soon afterwards he regained himself and threw me onto the hard, cold floor. The impact of the fall made my head woozy and I didn't feel alright. Perhaps I had been given a concussion. However, I wasn't given much time to think about such things, as my father was straddling me, holding a fatal-looking kitchen knife.

I closed my eyes, not wishing to see my insides. All I felt was pain, hurt, agony, blood, cold, miser-

I woke up feeling lightheaded. I found standing up a challenge, but I could not place why. Why was I in the living room? Quietly, I strode to my bedroom and on the way, discovered that my father was not home. This all seemed very peculiar to me. I had just gotten home from Gerard's house, right? But the clock shows that it has been… a day and a half?

I began to panic. What the fuck was going on around here? I walked into the bathroom and looked into the mirror to freshen up, but all I saw was… me. I was… bloody. My hair was sticky and torn out in places. My eyes were bloodshot. And my arms- they were… cut. I lifted my shirt over my head and all I saw was blood and slashes. My legs were covered with them too. Even my face. I collapsed on the floor. What did I do to deserve this? How could I possible cover this up? How was I still alive after this?

I could feel the lack of blood in my system. My thoughts were cloudy and I was extremely unbalanced. One thought was able to dominate my mind, however. That question was: What would Gerard say?

I had to try my best to cover this up. If Gerard found out, he would send me to the hospital and send my dad to jail. My father would find Gerard and kill him! I was certain of it, and I felt it was my duty to protect him as best I could.

The first step I took towards cleaning up this bloody mess was to take a shower. This was not an easy task to do, as all the soap burned my cuts. It churned my stomach to watch the brown blood fall from my body and circle down the drain.

I was fixed the best that I could at the moment. I was wearing a pair of jeans and a long-sleeved shirt, and placed the fringe from my hair over my face so that it was hard to see. Sighing, I walked to the mirror once again and gave myself a half-smile for effort.

The living room was nothing more than a crimson hell. The floors, walls, and couches all had pools of red soaked into them. There was broken glass all over the place. However, I figured it best to clean the house up, just in case my father came home and was reminded the events that took place last night.

Finally finished restoring things to a semi-normal state, I retreated to my room, thinking it best not to go out and about at the time. Instead, I sat on my bed and began to work on a song. My fingers aimlessly plucked the strings on my guitar. I found the song easy to write. The notes seemed to flow out of my mind rather swiftly and it all made sense to me. After a few hours, I found it almost complete, only needing words to match the music. I put down my instrument, as I was in a sort of writer's block, and tried to continue to sooth myself by reading comic books for the remainder of the day.

Night came quickly, and my father was still not home. I began to wonder about his whereabouts, but shook the concerned feeling. After all, he had turned me into a living zombie last night. I looked as if I had just come back from the dead.

The lack of blood in my body began to make me rather tired. Slowly, I eased under the covers, not having enough strength left to change into pajamas. My thoughts swirled with images of my mother, my father, blood, my newly-scarred face, and of course, Gerard. But one thing took up the majority of my thoughts; how was I going to get through school tomorrow?


	12. A Pretty Face but You Do So Carry On

I woke up in the morning with the sudden realization that I would have to go to school. Trying not to cause attention to my injuries, I dressed in black skinny jeans, a long-sleeved plain black tee, my Misfits jacket, and old high-tops. I checked the mirror and soon after came to the conclusion that I would have to hide my face somehow. I had a hood on my jacket, but added a jet-black hat for good measure and pulled it down to my eyebrows in order to shield my scarred forehead.

Slowly, I eased out of my bedroom door and surveyed the living room. I found that my father was still gone. This was beginning to worry me, even though I should hate him with every fiber of my being, which I do. Sighing, I exited the front door and headed out on my usual route to school.

Gerard had not seen me yet, which was extremely lucky on my part. I hurried to the back entrance of the school and turned the corner to find the door. However, to my surprise there was a figure dressed in crimson skinny jeans and a Black Flag concert shirt propped up against the door listening to his iPod. When he saw me approaching him, he took the earbuds out of his ears.

"I was wondering when you would finally show up." He said, eyes still fixed on the ground below him.

"How did you know I would be here?" I asked, a bit questioningly.

"I didn't. You haven't showed up at school for TWO DAYS, Frank. Where were you?"

I felt butterflies fly through my stomach up to my throat when he flipped up his head to look into my eyes. I could get lost in his hazels for days. His hair was tangled and lay strewn across his face in random spots, as if he had just gotten out of bed. Looking at his eyes, I noticed they were slightly bloodshot. His expression was worried.

"I…I was sick," I tried. He, of course, saw directly through me.

"Don't lie to me, Frank. I haven't slept for nights trying to figure out a way to get you away from him. I know he did something to you. What did he do? Tell me." Gerard's demanding was harsh and sharp. His eyes turned to daggers glowing shades of revenge.

I did not answer him, afraid of what I might say. All the courage I had was lost. I could feel my arms shaking with nervousness and my head begin to ache with pain. My mind was too scattered, due to my lack of blood. I was beginning to feel unbalanced, lightheaded, uneven. The world was rocking and spinning to every side, leaving me to be tossed and turned like the sea. Then came the darkness, rolling in such as smoke from a brick chimney, humbly housing from the tops of safer households.

The last thing that I heard in the back of my mind before I slipped away yet again were the words Gerard desperately called to me:

"Frank, stay with me!"

I woke up in an unfamiliar area. Fluttering, my eyes parted and took in the scenery of this new terrain. It certainly was more comfortable than the school-ground asphalt. After turning my eyes to the left of me, then over to the right, they rested on the comforting image above me: Gerard. I saw him smiling at me, but stung with concern. Observing my surroundings more thoroughly, I noticed that we were in the park, the only park for miles; the park that many victims drew their last breaths. However, the thoughts did not scare me, as I had also seen that I was laying on Gerard's lap as he was propped against an old tree.

"Frank, are you awake?" he asked, carefully and gently.

"I think so,"

"Are you alright?"

"I think so," I replied again. I felt an itch run across my forehead and pulled off my hat to scratch it.

Gerard's eyes grew five times their normal size as his face widened with terror. I noticed tears blaze across his gorgeous hazels. His raven hair blew eerily in the cold, bitter autumn wind. His lip trembled silently as his hand slowly rose to brush across my forehead with extreme care.

"W-w-what h-happened, F-Frank?"

"What?" I asked, truly confused. There was just a few marks up there, nothing that big.

Gerard quietly stood up and walked down to the river that housed many corpses floating to the bottom of the water. He rummaged on the ground for a while and returned to his spot by the tree and stooped down to me. He held a small piece of mirrored glass to me with an outstretched arm.

I gasped in horror at my own reflection. What lied on my forehead was not just a couple scratches, but a word. Another word of hatred was forever carved onto my frail body. I felt the tears well up in my eyes and begin to flow in endless fountains. Why was my torture so entertaining to my father?

Gerard threw his hands against his head, helplessly clutching it as if it was bleeding. He stood up and screamed, kicking his feet angrily at the dirt. He chucked the glass at the pavement, disgusted at its presence. His face lit up with rage and pure agony. It hurt me to see him like this.

"I'll-I'll kill that f-fucker I sw-swear to ya-you!" he yelled.

"Gerard, I'll be okay, it's fine. Just a mark," I held my finger up to my head. "See, no blood. It's just fine." I choked out.

He screamed once more and added, "You fainted! You fainted from loss of blood and here I was at school when you were dying! How am I supposed to watch over you when your father is killing you more and more every night? Tell me!"

"W-watch o-over me?"

Gerard stopped throwing things and hid his face with a piece of his hair. "Y-yeah," he responded, still crying.

I stood up and wrapped my arms around him. It felt to warm to be with him. It felt like I was not just a failure. I could have stayed there for days just being close to Gerard. I could smell his scent: coffee and cigarettes. I could see his eyes: seas of chocolate brown and peppermint green. I could feel his skin: icy and soft. I could hear his gentle breathing and sobs of tears that I would try to soothe. And I could taste the bitter air that was cruelly separating his lips from my own.

There we were, standing alone in the park. Each of us too afraid to tell the other how we felt. Well, at least I was. I knew I had to tell him, but I could still not muster the courage to do so. At the moment it did not matter to me, however. Just as long as I could feel his arms surrounding me, protecting me from the dangers and evil people of this world I was content. With Gerard, it felt like my father could never hurt me. It felt… like I was okay.

Gerard walked me to my home around eleven at night. He told me that he wanted to be sure my father was not there, or he would have me sleep at his house. No matter how hard I tried to convince him to stay away of my home for fear of my dad actually being there, he shook his head and kept beside me. When we reached the door, I cautiously creaked it open to find that my home was, in fact, free of my father.

Gerard did not believe me, and surveyed the entire house searching for him. At last, he came to the conclusion that there was no one else in the home and sat down on the living room couch.

"I've never been here before," he smirked.

I noticed a certain suggestiveness in his tone and smiled back. "That's right, you haven't."

"Well, I would really like to see your room," Gerard spoke deeply, making my knees weak.

I quickly attempted to recover and strode down the small hallway that lead to my bedroom. I opened the door and fixed my eyes directly onto the carpet, certain that he would dislike the area.

"Whoa, Frank. Your room is… awesome,"

I didn't think it was all that. The walls were a dark shade of maroon and had paint splatters of black strewn across them. There were a few posters of my favourite bands and movies lining the walls. I had a small desk with comic books messily thrown around and a closet that opened up to reveal a wardrobe full of band clothing. In the far corner of my room, I had my guitar out on a stand along with her amp. I had found some stickers in my desk drawer one evening and spelled out "PANSY" on her in purple-ish lettering.

Gerard beamed at me and sat down on my bed. "So, what do you want to do?"

"You don't have to stay, you know."

Gerard laughed. "There is no way I'm leaving poor little Frank all alone; helpless and endangered." He made a puppy-dog face that, in my opinion, was rather adorable.

"Hey! I'm not little!"

Again, Gerard chuckled at me. "You are VERY little, Frank. The smallest person I know. You could be a leprechaun."

"I am not a leprechaun!" I protested.

"Are you sure about that? You could be MY leprechaun," he added with the same suggestiveness in his voice as before.

Slowly, he crawled on top of me and pinned me down to the bed. I cocked an eyebrow at him, very confused as to what was going on. Gerard looked directly into my eyes, causing my breath to speed up and my heart to beat thunderously out of my chest. A blush lighted my face with a glowing shade of cherry red.

Gerard lowered his face to mine; I could feel his breath blow gently across my face. We were together, almost forehead-to-forehead. I was lost in him. He was everything. Quite gradually, Gerard titled his chin up to kiss my head where my father had marked his feelings down for the world to see and laugh at. I felt his lips brush my skin and I trembled, weakened by his touch.

He lifted his beautiful face from mine and rolled over beside me on the mattress. I cuddled up to his side and fell asleep pleasantly, dreaming sweet dreams of him. I wanted him to know, I needed him to know. But I couldn't do it.


	13. You're Not Telling

My eyes slowly fluttered open as I awoke the next morning. I rubbed my eyes and neck, as well as outstretched my arms. I gently sat up in my bed and checked the alarm clock on my small table.

"Oh shit!" I exclaimed, panicking.

I jumped out of bed with such a velocity that the covers and pillows fell to the ground. I was going to be late for school, and I had already missed so much of it due to previous incidents.

Quickly, I changed into a Green Day tee shirt and ran to the bathroom to fix my hair and smudge on rings of black eyeliner. I added red eyeshadow to try and take the focus away from my cut-up appearance. I then dashed to grab my little black hat.

"Shitshitshitshit" I cursed as I ran around like a little kid in a park around my bedroom.

I was just about to change into my grey skinny jeans when I noticed something on my bed that had somehow managed to go unseen until now. As soon as I saw it my cheeks flamed a new shade of red and I flipped the fringe over my eyes to hide my pure embarrassment.

"Hey," Gerard spoke in his deep, growly voice that made me lose my balance and caused my heart to beat audibly out of my chest.

I simply stared at the ground, unable to find any words at all to reply with. There I was, stuck to the floorboards. I couldn't run, and believe me, if I could've; I would have ran far, far away.

He spoke softly, "You look so cute when you're frazzled."

I was taken a bit aback by this statement. It played over and over in my head as if it were a broken record. 'He said I was cute,' my overly-excited mind repeated. He said that I was cute.

Gerard must have not noticed he had said this, as it was his turn to blush. He stood up off of the bed and stared at his feet. I could not help but remark how absolutely beautiful he looked in the morning. It took every fiber of my being not to tackle him and pin him down right then and there.

I was all ready for school at last and headed out of my room with Gerard trailing close behind. It was when I reached the front door that he cocked his head to the side and smiled.

"What?" I asked, truly suspicious.

"Oh, nothing. It's just that to-day is Saturday, and there is no school on Saturdays," he replied, stifling a chuckle.

"Oh."

"So what would you like to do?" Gerard questioned me.

'I can think of a few things…" I thought to myself. I then shook the wandering images of my mind from my head and unsurely responded, "Uh, I don't know."

"Well, that's not very helpful, is it?" he laughed.

I watched his head tilt back slightly and a grin spread across his face as he chuckled. His countenance was beautiful, breathtaking. He looked like a dark angel fallen from somewhere between Heaven and Hell. When his head tilted back, I could spot a sparkle in his green eyes. He was… gorgeous. I could not deny my feelings for him.

"How about we grab a cup of coffee then? This autumn has been so cold!" Gerard suggested.

I smiled and followed him out the door. It only took a few minutes until we had arrived at the exact same coffeeshop that I had met him at what seemed as forever ago. Precious memories filled up my brain, warming my broken little heart.

"So, Frank," Gerard questioned me, after we had sat down at the same table as before with our drinks, "Do you play guitar? I only ask because of that guitar pick I found all those years ago."

"Yeah, it's a good way to get my mind off things," I responded with a shrug.

"I've always found music as an outlet for emotions. I couldn't imagine a world without it."

"I don't even want to think about such a horrible place," I shuddered, "Do you play anything?"

"Well, I, uh, tried to play guitar but I was really bad at it. So then I tried to sing… but, uh, I don't want to talk about it," Gerard spoke softly as his gaze fell to his lap.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to-"

"It's okay, Frank," he smiled. I grinned back widely at his overuse of my name. He did this so often and every time it brought a rose-burning blush upon my cheeks.

We had been talking for a while now. It was getting later in the evening, but that did not drive us away. Our conversations were like treasures to me. We chatted on and on about music, school annoyances, and anything in general. I was content, happy, fulfilled.

However, then Gerard asked me a question that took me by complete surprise. My heart started racing and my hands built up a sweat. I had no response. I could feel myself shaking at the pure terror of having to admit my secret.

"So, do you have a crush on anyone?"

'Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck' was the only thing properly registering in my head. Finally, I found a tiny grip on myself and was able to choke out at least one word. I could tell he had noticed that something weird was going on with me.

"Yeah," my pathetic self responded.

"Aw, Frank, who?" he gushed in a mock-cheerleader voice that made me laugh.

I didn't give him an answer. I simply looked down at my feet under the table as if they were the most interesting things in the world. How cowardly I must have seemed.

"It's alright, you don't have to tell me." He smiled, making me feel comfortable once again. I swore he had some sort of magical powers on me.

"How about you?" I mustered the courage to ask.

He smiled extremely widely, showing each of his perfectly imperfect teeth, "Yeah."

I felt my heart sink. But maybe, just maybe….

"They are beautiful. I can always smile around them and every time I see their face it just… makes my world complete. The way I can just delve into their endless streams of magnificent eyes makes my heart fly. I couldn't imagine a life without them there," Gerard gushed.

If only he could be talking about me. If only he knew. Why was I such a coward? Why couldn't I just tell him! Maybe I could. Maybe I WOULD tell him. But should I? Would I ruin everything we had built? I suppose this would be a dangerous risk, perhaps suicidal to my mental state. The choices were weighing out. The decisions were creating maps of different scenarios in my head. I think… I would have to tell him.


	14. Just Like the Leaves

The weather outside the coffeeshop was bitter and windy, as expected for the autumn season. I had not realized how late it was until the manager had to kick us out to close up. The streetlights were busted up and broken, and it seemed that perhaps only one out of every three was lighting our way. Refusing my constant suggestions that he could walk home and leave me to my own route, Gerard had insisted on traveling alongside me. Just his presence was warm, as a jacket in the fall air.

I watched Gerard walk, and it was a bit mesmerizing if I must admit. He shuffled his feet only slightly, with his head directing in different places. Sometimes he would be staring at the ground, others at myself, and other times he would have his head titled back into the wind. His eyes glimmered in the soft glow of the streetlamps. His breathing was steady, and only barely audible.

"I love autumn," he supposed.

I quietly responded, "Me too."

"All the trees and foliage are exposed. You can see who they really are; who will fall apart and who will remain. If only people happened to do something as this in the fall-time as well. Maybe then I could see who I can trust and who will deceive me. They say that all deciduous trees lose their leaves, but there are always those few mavericks that keep them throughout the season; the ones that are the most beautiful to see even if they appear to be odd-looking in the summertime."

I reveled at Gerard's appreciation for the trees and his discoveries and fascinations. Listening to him speak, I felt as if a child hearing their parents tell them stories about princesses and pirates before bedtime. However, all these concepts were valid and knowledgeable, if not genius; the way he used metaphors to represent different things, the way his voice sounded in the cold air, how he could, in his mindset, ramble on, but create separate worlds and ideas that all made sense, however were filled to the brim with creativity.

"There is no way to depict people," he continued as he was walking, "Looks can't tell. You have to take a chance, a risk, an interest to people. That person may turn out to become your whole life, or your ultimate destruction. They could be your horseshoe or your hand-grenade. Personally, I would like to be that type of person that even if you took a risk on me, you might think me strange or different. The type of person that only a really… special other kind of person could ever see as a friend or an ally. That way I can eliminate the rest. When I die, I want people to reflect on me as someone who had changed a life; that is all I want to do. Maybe it will just be one person, maybe a few more. I don't want to be just a supporting character in someone else's play. When I'm gone, I want to be remembered. I don't just want to decay in the ground; like the leaves. Just think of all those trees loosing themselves piece by piece; leaf by leaf. Once all the leaves are gone, you can see right through them. But the ones who can keep themselves and be themselves create a thing of great beauty. And in the end we'll fall apart… just like the leaves; change in colours."

It took a few moments for his words to sink in. They were… breathtaking to say the least. I wondered what kind of tree I would be. I pondered how many of my leaves that would be left on my tree; his words inspired me. I looked up for a slight second and noticed that we had stopped walking and idly stood on the sidewalk in town, with all the shops closed up. One streetlight was shining above us.

"That was beautiful," I remarked, at a loss for words.

"What? Oh," he blushed, "I was just rambling on again, don't mind me."

"Your words; they're like magic. How do you come up with all those stunning words?"

"I-uh," again he blushed and said, "They just come to me, uh, as I observe things, I guess."

I smiled at his rosy cheeks. One of his lines, I believed it was the final one, had a firm grip in my mind, still ringing fresh. 'And in the end we'll fall apart… just like the leaves; change in colours,' he had spoken. That remained in my head, and it comforted me. It was as a prayer washing over me.

"Gerard?" I asked, nervously.

"Yes, Frank?"

"What kind of tree would I be? Would I have lost all my leaves by now?"

"Frank, you would be the tree that is hidden in the forest, but is casting leaves of all colours; purples, reds, yellows, oranges, and greens. Not a single leaf would fall, all would remain presenting their beauty to the world. Not everyone would find you, and some might think you "different," but someone of a very special kind might happen across the woods one day enjoying a stroll. That special person you would know you can trust and count on."

I began to cry. No one had ever told me anything of such levels of comfort and friendliness. I had no one. But now, well, I didn't feel so alone anymore.

"G-Gerard?"

"Yes, Frank?"

"Thank-you. So much."

"Are you crying?" Without allowing me the time to respond, Gerard rushed over and wrapped me up in a hug, sharing his warmth with me. I loved having him so close and tangible. Everything about him intrigued me.

"Th-th-thank-you," I whispered once more.

Gerard kept hugging me, pulling me even closer towards him. I rested my head on his shoulder, never wanting to break apart. I never wanted to leave him… even though he wasn't mine.

We had almost reached my house. The night had grown darker, and I assumed that it was perhaps midnight. As we walked, we approached the park where Gerard and I had visited only a short while ago. Without notice, Gerard began to head into the direction of the area and sat down in the grass. I followed him and took a seat by his side. The grass was wet with dew and as chilling as the air.

For minutes we sat side-by-side gazing up into the sky. There were many starts out, I could not spot even one cloud hazing our view. Every so often Gerard would lift his hand to the heavens to point out a constellation. He showed me so many over the course of time we rested there. Then, from the sub-consciousness of my own mind, I echoed aloud, "And in the end we'll fall apart… just like the leaves; changing colours."

From the corner of my eye, I watched as a wide grin appeared on Gerard's face. He left it there, plastered to his mouth. His eyes were glowing happy to match. He turned to look at me. His eyes met mine and held their gaze.

"You're beautiful, Frank."

His sentence was short and quiet; so quiet that I had only heard it by sheer luck. But, as soon as I had heard it, a tear rolled down my face. I held my breath, convincing myself that it must have just been the wind; that what I had heard wasn't true.

Gerard had abruptly broke his stare and had changed it to a permanent line to the grass. Even in the darkness of the evening, I could see his bright crimson cheeks burning of what must have been embarrassment.

"I-I'm sorry," he whispered as he took off running away from the park as fast as his legs would carry him.

There I sat, so confused and conflicted. He had called me "beautiful." No one had ever called me anything like that before. Why did he run away? Was it just a slip-of-the-tongue; and accident? Was he really that embarrassed? Or was he just playing with my fucked up emotions? Thoughts clouded my mind as I hoisted myself from the ground and headed slowly home.

The last thing I noticed before I opened the door to my home was a little tree standing a few feet away. It's leaves were only just turning orange, and it was not the prettiest tree I had seen so far. This tree brought a smile to my face as I remembered Gerard's words as he reminisced on the way home. Those words played over and over in my brain, until they put me to sleep safe in my bed.


	15. Hip Hip Hooray for Me, You Talked to Me

It was a Tuesday lunch hour and I watched as Gerard made his way over to the empty table I was sitting at. He had a shy smile painted on his face and his bangs were loosely resting over his eye. I grinned involuntarily to his presence and welcomed him to sit.

"Hey," he whispered, making my bones melt.

"Hey," I responded, sounding a bit weakened, but who could blame me?

We ate in a pleasurable silence for a while, and when we were finished our meals, Gerard spoke up.

"Do you, uh, can you come to my house…tonight?"

"Sure," I smiled at him. He seemed a bit nervous, although I couldn't place why.

Gerard replied with a slightly-growing smile and a, "Cool."

"I have to get to class. See ya soon!" I waved a good-bye and headed on my way to next period.

For the rest of the day I couldn't concentrate on anything. All that was on my mind was why Gerard was so nervous and what would happen at his house tonight. At this thought, I felt a trembling jolt go through me, reminding me of what I had found at my last visit to his house; the alcohol. Had his supply decreased? Was it gone? Did anyone else know about it? I wanted to know what was going on. This made me realize that there were still many, many things that I did not know about Gerard Way.

I gave an excuse to leave class early on my last period so that I could meet Gerard outside without getting pushed down the steps or punched in the face. The plan executed flawlessly and I was standing by the school gate in no time. To my surprise, I noticed that Gerard was already there, leaning against the railing listening to his iPod.

I walked up to him and waved a "Hello." To repond, he took his earphones out and stuck them in his pockets. He then looked up at me, letting his hair fall over his eye and smiled.

"You're here early," I observed.

"So are you."

"I didn't feel like getting beat into a coma, to-day." I shrugged.

Gerard's grin saddened and he added, "I needed some air."

This comment confused me, and I saw in his eyes that Gerard knew it did. We went on our way walking to his house anyway.

"Here we are," Gerard sighed.

We entered his home and I noticed that the lights were already on.

"Are your parents home early?" I asked.

"No. Come on, I'll show you." Gerard motioned cheerily for me to follow him up the stairs.

We walked down a short hallway with walls painted a crème colour and floors layed with dark hardwood. There were framed photographs hanging all over the walls and I laughed at the pictures of Gerard when he was a child. He seemed to be embarrassed about this and sped up his pace. I was about to reassure him that it was fine, but it appeared that we had reached our destination.

Gerard knocked on the door exactly twice and afterwards I heard a male voice call, "Come in!"

We walked inside and I found myself in a room covered from head to toe with Anthrax posters tacked onto black-and-white striped walls. The white bed had black accent pillows and was adorned with many different stuffed unicorns that I tried my best to stifle a laugh at. In the corner was a black egg chair hanging from the ceiling and beside it stood the most beautiful bass I had ever seen.

The male was seated in the egg chair reading a comic, but soon after we arrived, he had stood up and approached us. He spoke in a twisted, yet friendly manor and as he talked, his knees drew in closer to each other.

"So you're the one that's got Gerard talking," he wryly smiled at me.

Question marks filled up my brain, but before I could ask what he was talking about, Gerard abruptly commented, "Shut up, Mikey!"

So Mikey was his name. I immediately made the connection that these two were brothers; they acted like it at least. However, I was still confused about Mikey's comment. What did he mean, 'the one that's got Gerard talking'? I simply brushed it off, though. He probably meant that Gerard talks about me often. This thought made my cheeks flush and I could feel it clear as day or moonless night.

"Come on, Gerard. I'm happy that you're back to your old self… well, at least closer." Mikey attempted to comfort.

His methods did not work quite how he had wanted, and Gerard swiftly left the room. I turned to call for him, but figured that this would probably be one of my only chances to get some answers. Inhaling a deep breath, I looked back at Mikey and asked him cautiously, in case this subject might upset him in any way, "What do you mean?"

"You."

"What do you mean, 'me'?" I asked, growing more and more confused.

"You're putting him back together."

I stopped responding. How could I mean so much to one person? I was worthless, this made no sense to me.

"He's far from fixed," Mikey continued, "But he's getting better. It's all thanks to you."

"Wha-what were you talking about earlier?" I question, extremely frazzled.

"About the talking?"

I nodded.

"Gerard…" Mikey took a deep breath and told me solemnly, "Gerard is a mute."

It took me a few seconds to process this. I had no idea he was, he had always talked to me. However, recalling our childhood years, I don't think that I had heard him speak much at all, if any.

I spoke softly, "I didn't know that…."

"There's a lot of things about Gerard that you don't know," the brother spoke, his eyes watering up with tears.

"Thank-you for helping him, Frank. You have no idea how much this means to me; to him. Thank-you."

I nodded, almost on the brink of crying myself, "I should get down there to check on him. Bye, Mikey."

I then turned and walked out from the room and headed down the stairwell to find Gerard.


	16. The World is Ugly

"Gerard?" I called, trampling over my own feet to find Gerard in the house's basement.

I hadn't been talking to Mikey for that long, but I still felt bad for letting Gerard run off. I only wanted to figure out what was wrong; I wanted to help him. He was such a wonderful person. He was my reason of being.

I finally reached the door and threw it open silently without knocking. However, what I saw inside the door cracked my heart open and I stood there, completely frozen.

"Gerard," I whispered, holding back tears.

He turned his tearstained eyes up to me. There he sat, holding his knees tight to his chest, slashing away at his arms. It was hard to see the puddles of blood leaking into the already crimson-coloured carpeting, but I knew it was there. How could he do this? He was beautiful; so beautiful.

I ran over to him; practically throwing myself onto him. I gripped his shirt tight and did not let go for what seemed as hours. The blood was dripping into my shirt, but I could care less. His sweet scent tickled my cheeks; it was the most amazing thing I had ever smelled. The warmth of his body against mine; it was too perfect.

I broke the hug and looked into his eyes. Both of us were crying, but I had to be strong. I cupped his cheek and asked softly, "Why?"

Gerard sniffled and replied, "I'm so disgusting. I hate myself. There's so much I've screwed up. How could anyone tolerate me?! How can you even look at me?!"

"I think you're pretty," I whispered.

He looked into my eyes and I returned the favour. How I wished I could have kissed him right then and there. I just wanted to hug him and kiss him and make everything okay. He didn't deserve me. I've made him think this is his fault, when in reality, it's all mine.

"I'm not," he insisted.

"You are."

"No," he cried.

"Yes."

I took his hand in mine and lifted his arm to kiss his cuts. They were so deep. Thank god he had not had the chance to see mine. I couldn't understand how he could maim himself like this. He was perfect; or at least the most perfect form of imperfect.

"Frank I…" Gerard trailed off.

"What?" I leaned in close to him. Our noses were almost touching.

"Never mind," he spoke disheartened, as if he were trying to say something.

I pressed my forehead against him and almost inaudibly commanded, "Tell me."

Gerard blinked once, sending a single tear down his gorgeous face. He shook his head and turned himself away from me, tightly clutching his knees. I wanted to fix him. I wanted to so badly. This was breaking me.

"I… c-can't," he whispered trembling and shaking violently.

I hated to see him like this. He had a funny personality. He could be calm and cool, but also become distant, or suggestive, or angry, or even protective very easily. I had never seen him this torn apart before. It reminded me of myself.

"Shhh," I cooed to him.

I stood up and held a hand out to him in which he took. When he got onto his feet I pulled him into a close hug and stroked his hair until he had become a bit more sublime and his heart rate had slowed down.

A few minutes later or so I led him to his bed and he sat down on the mattress. He looked up at me and patted the spot next to him without a word. This reminded me of something a little child would do to summon their parents. The thought made me smile.

I crawled in next to him and smiled genuinely to him. If he only knew how much I loved him. Then I could make him smile every second of every day. I could do so many things like write him notes or give him roses; so many things that friends can't do without suspicion.

The lights had never been turned on, so I had only to throw the covers over top of us. It was so comfortable like this. I never wanted to leave. I was almost asleep when I heard Gerard speak very quietly beside me.

"Thank-you," he smiled with as much effort as he had at the moment.

I turned on my side to look and him and grinned back. "No, thank-you."

"I didn't do anything. I'm just a stupid ugly-"

I cut him off, "Don't say that about yourself. If anyone is the ugly one here, it's me. Look, it's even carved into my forehead." I lifted my bangs up to show him once again. I had almost forgotten it was there. The memories of my father came flooding back to me and I began to tear up.

"No, Frank. You aren't ugly, the world is ugly. He did that to you and I'll kill him. I swear to it. No one will ever make you sad again. I won't ever let them hurt you, I promise."

I looked up at him with pure affection. There were no doubts about my feelings now, I just could not seem to confess them. I was sure that there would come a time when I would not be able to control them anymore. All I wanted was to show him that someone loves him; and that someone is me.

Gerard hugged my waist under the covers and lightly kissed my head. The connection was magical. I could feel my cheeks light up and butterflies engulf my stomach. There was nothing else like this feeling; it was golden. I could feel myself drifting off happily, soundly; never like I had before.

"You know, Frank," Gerard commented as I was closing my eyes.

He continued, "This world is ugly…"

His voice was my lullaby sending me to sleep. It was like the oceans intertwining or the angels singing choruses. It was as smooth as melted chocolate and as warm as the new summer's sun. I felt like Alice falling down a well of all my favourite things.

Before I had completely dozed off, I heard the rest of his sentence and it sent me to a peaceful sleep.

"But you're so beautiful to me."


	17. This Riddle of Revenge

I woke up in the arms of Gerard; his soft, comforting arms. I wished that I could have stayed like that until the end of the world, but of course, alarm clocks aren't always on your side.

"With just a touch of my burning hand,  
I'm gonna live my life to destroy your world.  
Prime directive; Exterminate the whole fuckin' race!"

As much as I loved the Misfits, being startled out of peaceful sleep is not on my list of favourite things. But soon enough Gerard slammed his fist down on the clock and it shut off immediately.

"Good morning, Frank," Gerard yawned. He sleepily looked down into my eyes and held a gaze there.

All I could think about was how beautiful he was. I only needed the courage I could do it; I could tell him… just not now. Perhaps I would later to-day, or this week, or this month; sometime this year even. I was still not ready.

"Hi," I responded, sounding so meek and shy.

"Do you know what Saturday is?" he asked me.

"No…is it something cool?" I was really quite puzzled about what could be happening. I tried hard to recall any special events I had planned, but drew a blank.

"You really have no idea?"

"Not a clue."

"It's Halloween!" he exclaimed, "The best holiday in the whole year!"

His smile was contagious, and soon I was slightly in the spirit.

"Oh yes," I recalled grinning slightly, "I remember that being one of my favourites as well."

Reminiscing, I could imagine all the times that I went trick-or-treating in the worst possible costume because my dad would never be sober enough to get the materials for a decent one. I went door-to-door alone and unchaperoned and got hurt on many occasions that I do not care to retell. But all-in-all, Halloween was most certainly one of my most favourable holidays.

"But Frank! Don't you know what makes it so special?" Gerard was acting as if I had forgotten something important. Should I have remembered what happened on Halloween? I was not aware of this other event.

I curiously inquired, "No, what?"

"It's your birthday, Frank!" Gerard yelled at me as if I was the biggest moron in the planet; which in this situation, he was probably right.

"Oh shit, yeah it is, isn't it!" I laughed.

"How could you not remember your own birthday?" he asked with a complete dumbfounded expression.

I sat up on the bed to reply to him, "Well, you know that guitar pick you saved from my house?"

"Yeah, oh hey here let me give it back-"

"No. I want you to have it. Anyways, that was the last time that my birthday was celebrated."

"How long have you had it?"

"I believe it was given to me when I was four."

To this, I received an unexpected tackle. Gerard had pinned me down on the bed and had his head cocked to the side in a most adorable manor. He looked like a doll with his button nose and sparking eyes. It was uncontrollable to blush.

"Well," Gerard spoke in his deep and suggestive voice that gave my chills down my spine and goosebumps all over my skin, "We will be sure to celebrate this year."

The only thing processing in my head were jumbles of gibberish, unknown to the English language. How did he do this to me? How did he make me so weak and vulnerable this easily? He was so smooth, yet quirky. I found this most attractive.

"We're-uh-we…school,"

Gerard lowered himself off of me, freeing me from his pin, and slid off the bed. Then, he looked to me and suggested, "I thought we could skip to-day so that I can spend some lost time with you."

This remark made my cheeks and smile light up. "Sounds like a plan."

"Alrighty! I'll go take a shower and get ready. I should be back pretty soon."

I nodded and he left, leaving me all alone in his room. I supposed that it was time to discover the answers to some of my questions. Scanning the room, I quickly found the bat figure that held a key. With the key, I ever-so-slowly unlocked the bedside table door to find out its contents.

This time there were only three bottles left. Two were partially empty, the other was rather full. I took out the second bottle of liquid poison to gain a closer look, but to my surprise, I noticed something sitting behind the row of drinks. It was in a flat container and I couldn't be sure, but I think that I had just discovered a very tragic secret of Gerard's.

I did not have time to double-check this item's identity by the cause of footsteps coming nearer and nearer to Gerard's room. I tried to hurry to put everything away as fast as possible, but I was too late.

Someone had knocked on the door.

I felt completely screwed. What was I going to do? I was completely incapable of moving from my current position, thus entirely enabling myself to become caught. There was nothing I could say to explain this situation either. I would probably anger him or upset him. The thoughts of doing these things saddened me, as I never wanted to hurt him; only to protect him. Gerard needed help, and I would help him. This was my job now; my depression is irrelevant.

I closed my eyes tightly, accepting my fate. My heart was pounding through my chest. I bit my lip tightly and held my breath as the door slowly creaked open, revealing a certain person with a quite shocked expression.


	18. Save Me from My Self Destruction

"Frank?" Mikey called, while standing in the open doorway.

I was completely frozen; busted. What could I do?

"Oh no, you found them…"

"Found what?" I asked cautiously.

"You've found Gerard's secret cabinet. I always tried to open it, but I could never find the key. Picking the lock never seemed to work." He explained.

"Why are there alcohol and prescriptions in here?" I was getting very worried. There were so many secrets that I was not aware of. Too many things were being kept hidden from me. Of course, it wasn't that I was an open book, but my side of the story was quite irrelevant at the time.

Mikey looked around nervously and with noted uncertainty. I could tell that he felt extremely uncomfortable with this topic. He shifted the weight on his feet and spoke quietly, "This isn't my place. You should ask Gerard, but not now; it's a touchy topic. As for right now, I would suggest that you lock that cabinet back up and I will walk away as if I had never shown up in the first place. Okay?"

I gave him one nod and locked up the table as I had been instructed to do. Mikey left shortly after, as he said he would, leaving me alone to contemplate the situation. I knew deep down what was going on, but I did not want to admit it to myself.

"I'm back! Did you miss me?" Gerard questioned, walking back into his room. His hair was wet and shiny and his mood seemed to be improving by the minute.

"Of course," I beamed up at him. He looked so cute like this, I just wanted to wrap him up and snuggle him. This thought made me laugh a little to myself, earning me a raised eyebrow from Gerard that I swiftly waved off.

"So what would you like to do to-day?" I asked, cocking my head to one side.

"Whatever your little midget heart desires," he laughed.

"Hey!" I exclaimed, lightly punching him in the arm.

"What? You're short. You aren't going to argue with that, are you?"

I hung my head in false shame, "No."

Gerard laughed at this and his smile was contagious. I swore that his grin had powers over me. I could instantly fell one million times better whenever I saw it. It was the most beautiful thing rather than Gerard himself that I have ever seen.

"Let's go for a walk outside in the woods," Gerard proposed suddenly.

I protested, "But it's cold outside!"

"Come on, Frank! I'll keep you warm!"

I couldn't be sure, but before he turned to walk out the door, I believe that he winked at me. Nevertheless I followed him outside with a large, rosy grin that lasted for a long while.

"I'm tired, can we stop?" I complained. I honestly have no idea how Gerard could tolerate me. I whined the whole way up about how cold, hungry, and tired I was. However, he seemed as though he did not mind.

"Sure. This looks like a good place to rest anyways."

I had to agree with him. We were a little ways into the woods. There were trees with every shade of autumn falling down from them. There were rocks of all sizes scattering the forest floor and even brightly-coloured birds flitting and flying above our heads.

"It's really nice out here with you," Gerard reminisced. He then quickly added, "You know, like, uh, having a friend… outside. It's nice."

"Yeah, it is, isn't it? I've never really, uh, had a friend before so it's a very… pleasant feeling." I added shyly.

"Wait, you've never had even one friend? Ever? You can't be serious, can you?"

"Not one. You can consider yourself lucky, I suppose, or unfortunate; whichever you prefer."

"Frank, I wouldn't trade our friendship for the world. It means everything to me." Gerard spoke, looking intently into my eyes.

"I'm sure you would be better off without me."

"If by 'better off' you mean dead, then yes."

"What do you mean? You're all," I gestured towards him, "YOU, and I'm all… me. You don't need me."

"I DO need you." he insisted.

"You DON'T need me." I fought back.

"I'd be gone without you."

"No, I would be gone without YOU."

He looked deeper into my eyes, "You are amazing, stop thinking that you aren't."

"You are so incredible. You need to believe me on this."

Gerard moved in closer to my face. We were only inches apart. He spoke softly, "Did you know that your smile makes ME smile? It's perfect; beautiful even."

I responded gently, "Did you know that the sound of your voice is like pure gold? I wish that you could love it, too."

He moved in so close to me that our foreheads were touching. I could feel his hot breath on my face in the chilly autumn air. His eyes were gleaming and his cheeks were flushing red.

"I think you're pretty," he whispered.

"I think you're pretty, too," I quietly responded.

We sat like that for a while, waiting for someone to make a move, but no one ever did. I could not complain, however. Those moments were perfect; I would not change a single thing about them.

The wait became longer, and finally Gerard broke apart our foreheads and kissed my cheek. I put my hand up to the spot where his lips had touched my skin and grinned at him. He was so beautiful. He did not deserve to be spending all of his time with someone like me.

It was only the afternoon, but we decided to lay down and look at the sky. There wasn't much to see. The great blue palate was not painted with too many clouds that day. We stayed there for a long time; just laying on the leaf-covered grounds of the forest. It may not have seemed like something that brilliant, but to me, this moment was platinum.


	19. And All the Cyanide That You Drank

The rest of the week had gone by and it was already Friday. I was walking out the main school doors, which I was a bit nervous about. It had been a while since I had used this exit and I knew that the jocks were right outside the doorframe. I wanted to use the back door, but some teachers were blocking it, making my stomach turn queasy.

I slowly approached the door, safe so far. Once I reached the frame I did a double-take and ran as fast as I could down the steps aiming for the school gates. I was almost there when-CRACK. I felt a hand grab my neck and slam me down on the concrete. The wind was completely knocked out of me. I wriggled my hand free from underneath my trapped body to feel my stinging cheek. I pulled it away to see blood; what a familiar sight that was.

"Aw, aren't you going to fight, princess? Or are you going to wait for your little Prince Faggot to come save you?" one of the jocks spat at me. He then picked up my head with one hand and smashed it on the cold, hard ground several times while his friends took turns kicking me in the stomach. I wanted so bad to die. I hadn't even discovered where the cracking noise had come from.

"You disgust me," the 'leader' of their group told me. He looked dead in my eyes and kicked me in the crotch. I screamed in pain and cried so hard. I hoped to be left for the dead.

Before they left I heard one of them say, "It's okay, he'll never have kids anyways, the queer." This caused the whole lot to erupt in venomous laughter.

It had been about half an hour and I had no physical strength to pull myself from off the ground. I hurt all over and my head was throbbing in my skull. I could feel my pulse racing. Looking down on myself, I saw all the blood and tears I was soaked in. There I lay, completely helpless on the school grounds. I didn't think that I was unconscious, but who could tell?

A few more minutes had passed by and no one had noticed me. I suppose this was expected, but I really did not want to spend all evening on the concrete. I don't know who I expected to come for me. No teachers liked me and I didn't have any friends… except Gerard. Was he my friend? I think I remembered him talking about us being friends, but I don't know why he would want me to be one.

I closed my eyes and wished so hard for me to just die right there and then. The blood was drying onto my skin, clothes, and hair and my tears were sticky on my face. I felt already dead. All I could hear was my staggered breathing and… footsteps? They were drawing closer and quickly turned into running steps.

Whoever they were, they weren't talking, however I could hear them lightly sobbing. I don't know why they were crying, perhaps they were tears of joy from seeing my blood-covered body. I felt them press their head against my chest and kiss my forehead. The stranger then moved down to kiss my nose, then cheek, the chin, then neck.

By this point I was very confused, but I did not have any control over the situation. I didn't even have enough strength to open my eyelids. I couldn't see a thing as the stranger picked me up from the ground and carried me away from the schoolyard in their arms. The amount of strength this person had told me that they were, indeed, male.

Could it be? Did Gerard come to save me once again? I knew that this was a stupid thought. He was probably home with Mikey and not outside trying to save me from cruel classmates.

The stranger brought me into a home and lowered me onto a sofa. By the smell of the place, cigarettes and alcohol, I could tell that it was my own house. But how had he known where I lived? I wished that my body hadn't given in so that I could see him. If it was Gerard, by some miracle, his gorgeous face would make everything better.

The stranger crawled up on the couch and placed my head on his lap. He began to gently stroke my hair. Having company in this state was very comforting, although I would have liked it just fine to have died on the ground. I supposed this option was nice, too.

After a few minutes, the stranger slid off the sofa and walked away from me. I heard his footsteps grow softer and I begged for him to stay inside my head. My hopes were fulfilled when I heard the sound of running water and his footsteps become closer. I had gathered that he had wet a washcloth and was cleaning my face and hair of the blood and tears.

Afterwards, he left once more and brought back a comfortable shirt and lounge pants. He carefully slid my shirt off and put on the new one. Soon afterwards, he changed my pants, which felt a bit awkward. Then he headed off to the bathroom and ran the water once again. I assumed that he was washing out my old clothes.

When this task was completed, the stranger returned once more with a few blankets that he set on me. I felt much better than before, but I still ached everywhere. I remembered all the things they had said to me and those words eventually mixed in with my father's and peers'. Before I knew it, I was crying again. The stranger must have taken note of this because they began to stroke my hair once more. I found this calming and it slowly put me to sleep.

"GET UP!"

I quickly jumped out of bed completely frazzled and acquired a head rush. I felt lightheaded from the lack of blood in my system, but I had gotten used to the feeling by now. I wasn't sure what was going on, but it didn't sound good. The rush slowly faded back to normal vision and I was not quick to comprehend my surroundings.

Gerard was there, but so was my father. I didn't understand; I thought he was gone forever! I supposed that it was in fact Gerard who had found me last night and that this was why he was on the floor of my living room. Wait….

I ran over to my dad screaming for him to get away. He was positioned over Gerard with a knife and was about to do what he had done to me so many times. I noticed that Gerard's cheeks and arms were already bleeding, which made me sob.

"GET AWAY FROM HIM!" I yelled over and over again.

"Oh look! Princess Sleeping Beauty has awakened! Your little queer boyfriend was here last night and I thought that I would keep him company for you." My father sneered with a crooked smile.

"You get away from Gerard right now," I snarled. I had never seen myself like this. Never before had I acted so… protective.

"Or what, princess?"

"I'll kill you."

To this my father laughed, only adding fire to my flame. I lunged forward to him, causing the tip of his knife to barely scrape past my face. I pinned down my father and beat his face and stole his weapon. I couldn't bring myself to cut him, but I did stand up and kick him in the crotch and gut many times. I heard him howl in pain. This made me even angrier and I bent down to grasp his face tightly in my hands.

"You will leave him alone. DO YOU UNDERSTAND ME?" I yelled to him. I hadn't noticed before, but I was crying profusely.

I did not allow him the time to respond. Instead I smashed his face against the floor until he bled and stood up to look down on him. Before I spit in his face I commanded him to get out and watched as he ran out of the house.

It took me a few minutes to process what had just happened. I scanned the room to try and retrace my steps. Soon I came to a poor, scared Gerard huddled up in the corner. I rushed to his side and knelt down to wrap my arms around him.

"Shh," I cooed to him, noticing that he was shaking. "I won't ever let him hurt you again, I promise."

I started to stroke his hair, remembering that he had calmed me with this particular action only the day before. Gerard's heartbeat began to slow down, but he still hadn't talked since he had found me yesterday.

Suddenly Gerard looked up at me. He had a small twinkle in his eyes behind his tears. He wrapped his arms around my neck and then kissed my cheek.

"Happy birthday, Frank." He whispered.


	20. Love is the Red, The Rose on Your Coffin

I outstretched an arm for Gerard to help him stand up from the floor. He was shaking slightly and had tears hidden in his shining, hazel eyes. I wanted to kiss him and make him feel better, but for right now, all I could settle for was a hug. I held him close to me and ran my fingers through his hair to try and soothe him.

"It's okay, Gerard. He's gone. He can't hurt you anymore. I won't ever let him touch you again. You're safe now," I cooed to him.

Gerard kissed my cheek again and mumbled something so quietly that I could not understand what he had said.

"Let's clean you up, hm?" I suggested. I then led him to the bathroom and wet a washcloth him warm water and dabbed it over his wounds. I made sure to be gentle so that he would not have to feel any pain after what he had been through. Once I got to his face, I noticed that he was staring at me. His eyes were permanently fixed on mine.

"You're bleeding," Gerard murmured almost in a whisper. He took the wash cloth from my hand and found a clean spot on it to wipe my face clean. When his task was complete, he wrapped his hands around my neck and nestled his head next to mine. The human contact was still so foreign to me. I thought I was doing something wrong. All the bad thoughts overwhelmed me and I backed up, earning a confused look from Gerard. Embarrassed, I ran into my bedroom.

I locked the door and ran straight for my razor blade. It had been too long and I had resorted to safety pins and scissors in my absence from it. This was the second-only thing that eased the pain. The first of course being Gerard, but I had just went and fucked that up beyond belief. I felt completely hopeless and kept telling myself that one more scar doesn't matter. My body was practically a scar itself by now.

Just then I heard a knock at my bedroom door. Gerard was calling my name and he sounded very worried. I fumbled trying to put my, eh, 'item' away, but somehow Gerard picked the lock and ran in, catching me in action. The look on his face was enough to break my heart. No one was supposed to see me like this. I was strong. I was a loner, I didn't tell people things and in return people didn't give to shits about me. What made Gerard think so differently?

"Frank…" he trailed off. Before I knew it, he had thrown himself into my arms. He was gripping me so tight I could barely breathe, but it was comforting in an odd way.

There was a long moment of silence. Neither of us knew what to say to the other. I still had so many questions to ask about Gerard, and now he had plenty to ask me. I never wanted him to see me this way. I don't know what came through me that I ran off and resorted to my blade so easily. I suppose that I forgot someone cared about me now, or at least I thought so.

"Frank, why would you do that to yourself? You are so beautiful," Gerard whispered to me in tears.

"I'm not."

"You are."

"I'm not."

"Yes you are!"

"Look at me! Look at my face, my skin! How can you stand me?" I practically yelled.

"You are the most perfect person in this whole world. I've thought so since I first saw you in elementary school. I would watch you sit alone on the playground and wish I could talk to you, but I was too shy." He confessed.

"You… you did? You really think I'm… perfect?"

"Flawless."

Why couldn't I just say it? Three words! It wasn't the hard! I only wanted to tell him how much I loved him. He made me smile and he made me laugh. He was my sunshine. He was my life. I had never wanted anything more in my entire life than to only tell him how much I loved every piece of him.

"I think you're perfect, too." I whispered. I wasn't sure that he could hear it, but I was sure that he could see my cherry-red blush.

"Come on, Frank!" Gerard exclaimed after all the tragic scenes had been taken care of.

"Where are you taking me?" I asked, extremely confused.

"You'll see when we get there! Stop walking so slow!"

"I can't see a thing, Gerard! Why am I wearing this blindfold?" I questioned. I was so puzzled at the moment. Gerard had simply tied me up in a blindfold and told me to follow him. I had no idea where I was or where we were traveling to.

"Almost there!" he squealed.

I laughed, "You just squealed like a girl."

"Shut the fuck up and take your blindfold off!" he joked.

I carefully undid the knot in the back of the fabric strip. After I could use my eyes again, I took in the scene around me. Gerard had taken me to the park. But it wasn't just any park, no. This was our park. The park that we had talked in so many times. The park where we became friends and the park where I had realized just how deeply I loved Gerard. I was unable to restrain my smile.

It was almost sunset outside and the weather was a bit chilly. I had only brought a thin jacket to keep me warm and I was beginning to shiver. I supposed that Gerard had noticed this, and soon after removed his jacket to drape over my shoulders. He then looked into my eyes with his hazels. They were so breathtaking; like oceans of green and brown.

He then leant over to kiss my cheek and grasp my hand at the same time. I blush profusely, thinking that this was the first time he had held my hand. Gerard knew this, too and laced his fingers in the spaces between my own. They fit perfectly. I watched as his own face lit up as well, causing me to grin widely.

Gerard tilted his head back and laughed with pure joy and led me off to run through the park. We ran past trees and swingsets laughing and smiling so big that I my face began to ache, but I didn't let it bother me. All I needed was him.

As we swiftly moved through the area hand-in-hand I noticed a hill approaching in our path. Gerard did not dodge it, but ran right up, pulling me behind him. When we reached the top, I saw that he had layed a blanket across the cold grass and sat down, his hand still grasped to mine, and invited me to join him.

As soon as I sat down, he pulled me into a tight embrace and whispered into my ear, "I got you a present, beautiful." I chuckled, finding it funny that I had forgotten that it was my birthday once again. He held up one finger to motion for me to wait for him to become prepared.

"Close your eyes," he whispered seductively and made my knees go weak even though I was sitting.

I did as instructed and impatiently awaited my gift. It would be amazing, I could only imagine. He was so wonderful. Hell, I couldn't find any words to describe his perfection.

"Open," he quietly instructed.

Gerard held out his hand to offer a small box wrapped in black, glossy paper and tied with a big crimson red bow. I began to cry due to his kindness towards me. His shining eyes told me to open it, and I replied by using my fingers to slowly tear the paper.

The wrapping revealed a white box that I eagerly lifted the lid to. Inside the box, I discovered the most gorgeous painting that I had ever layed eyes on. It had Gerard's signature at the bottom, including an 'x' and an 'o' underneath, and I shed a happy tear just thinking that he had created this specifically for me.

The painting was of two boys. One had shaggy black hair and hazel eyes, and the other looked a bit like myself. The shaggy-haired boy was giving the other a kiss on the cheek while they were sitting in a park watching the stars in what seemed like autumn. Inscripted in incredible calligraphy read the words,

'Or tell me how, just you and I, your starless eyes remain.'

When I read that phrase, I began to cry. His thoughts were so magnificent and deep. He was a poet and his words were my salvation. He did these things to me and made me blush and made my knees turn weak. I couldn't contain myself any longer. I jumped onto him and pinned him onto the blanket. My lips kissed his face in random places, showering him in my feelings. Still tearing of joy, I leant into his ear and spoke softly, "Never leave me."

To this, he only responded by standing up and pulling me up with him. I was a bit confused by his actions, but smiled largely once more when he pointed down the opposite side of the hill that we had come up. There was just enough sunlight left to read the words that were spelled out in maroon-red roses in the fall grass.


	21. Let Me Break This Awkward Silence

I could almost taste the time. It stopped so suddenly. The world faded away to a highlighted blur of only one simple question sculpted out of plump, crimson roses lay still in the cold grass below me. I could hear it whisper in my ears as the wind blew across my neck, sending chills down my spine and arms. It was quiet, but peaceful. Each seemingly non-existent moment was comfortable and almost unreal. My eyes grazed of each thorn and petal of the flowers, eventually forming a sentence in my head that asked me of a certain task sent only from Gerard.

"Kiss me?" they read.

I turned to face him. Everything seemed so slow, as if we had forever. Was this… love? I wasn't sure, as I had never experience such a feeling as this before. The chilling air faded away so that I could no longer feel its freezing effects on my skin. My hearing faded away and soon nothing was detectable, but I was not scared for this; no. I was nervous simply for the pure fact that this entire concept was new to me. What if I messed up? However, something in Gerard's mint-chocolate eyes soothed me and my fear melted away with my senses.

He took a simple step towards me. I followed his example and looked into his eyes. They were glowing with every angle of moonlight. His hair was ruffled up from the wind and his nose was slightly red from the weather's impact. Noticing my childish staring, I swiftly aimed my gaze towards the ground.

I felt two fingers lift up my chin. They were pale and artistic. I could almost imagine them caressing a paintbrush dipped in a sunset purple hue. I grinned slightly, tracing my eyes up him arm until I met his face. He smiled in turn and leant into the cruel autumn air that was separating our lips.

I could feel butterflies rush through my stomach and flutter up my throat. I felt as if I was standing on a cloud propelling my upwards into the air. This gave me a sense of weightlessness that is almost impossible to describe.

He moved in even nearer and rested his forehead on mine. I could feel a simple tear glide down my once truly happy face. In response, Gerard shifted only enough to rest his nose on mine. He looked into my eyes and I shifted mine into his oceans of hazel beauty. I could see liquid fountains that enclosed me into their ever-welcoming enchantment.

Gerard broke our faces apart and kissed my nose. However, this time he did not turn away and leave me with only this. Instead, his eyes smiled and he cupped my cheek with his hand. Then, in a head rush of emotion, he pressed his lips directly onto mine.

The impact took me by surprise. Was this real? Whether it was or not was irrelevant to me at the moment. I could sort out the details on a later date. Instead, I focused my mind on the simple fact that Gerard Way was kissing me.

I let my eyes drain into one million happy thoughts that eventually led to a pure nothingness of contentment. My brain shut off and I could not feel anything except Gerard's soft, pale lips against my own. They tasted of coffee and cigarettes and I craved it.

My arms lifted to wrap around his neck. I never wanted this to end. Everything was warm. My thoughts were glad and joyful. My mind was limitless and free such as a mockingbird in the sunlight of summer. Nothing could disturb the perfection of-

BEEP! BEEP! BEEP! BEEP!

I slung my arm over my head and beat my alarm clock with my fist. Yawning reluctantly, I pushed off my bed covers and stood up slowly and cautiously so that my poor morning posture wouldn't send me toppling over.

"Saturday," I mumbled to myself. I had actually gotten the day correct for once.

Sauntering over to my mirror, I ran fingers through my hair. What a dream I had last night. After looking over myself once, I let myself fall backwards back onto my bed. My mind wandered on and on about my perfect dream. If only it had been real. I would have told him that I loved him.

I had decided to go for a walk to clear my brain. I figured that all the thinking about Gerard and I kissing was bad for my mental health. Why dream of something that could never happen? It can only do me more harm.

The wind was frigid, but it let it whistle past me, cleansing me with its icy chill. I just needed something to take off the edge. Everything I heard outside was silence; nothingness. The sounds would not register in my mind. My thoughts were numb and could only focus on one thing, one person. It was like a bottle of liquor stinging the back of my throat.

I passed the stop sign with graffiti and the gum tree in my neighborhood. I used these to help train my brain to come back to life. It was asleep, only dreaming of one topic. There was the dumpster with profanity and the black pair of sneakers resting on top of the phone wire way up in the dull morning sky.

I could not comprehend this sudden emptiness. I felt nothing. There was no emotion left to experience. It was like Gerard never existed and I had just awoken from a coma that I had been in for several months. I actually considered this theory especially since any one of the jocks at school could easily put me in that state.

Oh, look. It's the old battered newspaper box. I remembered when it used to be a bright, pumpkin orange. Over the years, the colour had lost its vigor and had faded to a rusted auburn. Such is life, I suppose.

Without noticing, my mind had taken me on a path to a park. The park. Our park. Gerard and I's park. I cursed myself for leading me here, but let myself saunter up to the swingset. I sighed letting my body slump down into the blue swing.

"Hey," a voice whispered. I jumped, thinking that this was my insane mind talking to me. However, I discovered that I had company.

"Hey," I softly spoke back.

"What are you doing up this early?" the voice called with a hint of nervousness.

"I was thinking. I didn't expect to end up here."

"Same."

I looked into his eyes. Gerard was so stunning. His facial features were angelic and soft, but also hinted mischief and danger. He was both a lion and a lamb, but held the qualities of a saviour. Indeed, he was a saviour; mine especially. He was carved from the angels in heaven and then broken in the world of reality. His opinions and mindset were entirely his own. Everything about him was beautiful.

A few moments went by. My thoughts were troubling me, and I supposed that Gerard knew this after hearing his next question.

"Is there something wrong, Frank?"

"No," I responded, rather quickly I must add.

"Tell me the truth." He knew me too well.

"I just had a dream last night. I've been thinking about it."

"What was it about?" he pressed.

"Well, you were there… and so was I."

"Was it a good dream?" he asked with genuine interest.

"Oh, yes. It was a wonderful dream," I recalled.

Gerard refrained from asking me any more questions about my dream. Instead, we swung in a comfortable silence for a few moments. He would point out a bird here or there. Sometimes he would recite a little poem that he either remembered or thought up on his own. I loved how he was so theatrical. This made him so unique. Each quirk was like another beauty mark.

Up. Down. Up. Down. These were the motions of the swings. I noticed that Gerard had begun to tap his finger against the metal pole as I glided back and forth in the air. After a while, he seemed to have his pattern down to a tee and interrupted the quietness with the sound of his golden voice speaking;

"How doth the little crocodile

Improve his shining tail,

And pour the waters of the Nile

On every golden scale!

How cheerfully he seems to grin,

How neatly spreads his claws,

And welcomes little fishes in

With gently smiling jaws!"

I tilted my head back and laughed. Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed that my chuckle had caused Gerard to smile gently. I jumped down from my swing and walked over to give him a kiss on the cheek. He pulled me down on his lap and began to hum. I could not quite place where I had heard this song before. I didn't think that I ever had. Maybe this was another work from the endless imagination of Gerard Way.

After a few bars, he sang a simple phrase:

"Lay still like the dead."

I stood from his lap and lay in the grass. He walked over and stared at me. Then, he politely requested that I tell him of my puzzling actions. I replied quite simply, "I am laying still, like the dead." He smiled and joined me.

After a while of watching the clouds, he turned his head to face mine in the chilly terrain. "You know," he spoke.

"Hm?"

"I meant it."

"Meant what?" I questioned, completely confused.

"I meant it when I kissed you."


	22. You're Just a Sad Song

Realization hit me hard. It wasn't a dream. Gerard Way really kissed me. I kissed him. It was… real.

My mind was registering at a blank. I couldn't move even the tip of my pinky finger. My eyes did not blink. I could not take a breath. I was frozen in my place. It wasn't until Gerard waved a hand in front of my face that I realized he was still there… and that I was staring directly at him. This, of course, made me blush, not helping the current situation whatsoever.

"Frank?" he called gently. No words were forming in my mouth. I tried to lower my jaw to attempt at speaking, but it would not budge. I felt as though I was made of stone and marble; a statue perhaps. I was a monument of ultimate awkwardness. Not even a single thought was able to register in my mind.

"Fra-" Gerard began. However, I caught him off-guard and interrupted his troubling words by literally sprinting away. Yes, I am THAT pathetic. I ran as far away as I could. I just kept running and running, only looking back once. It was with that one simple glance back at Gerard that my blood streamed with regret and guilt. He had a heart-breaking look of pure rejection and glassy eyes threatening tears. I wanted to go back and comfort him, but my feet would not comply. They kept moving, eventually leading me to my home.

I frantically threw the front door open and ran straight for the bathroom, throwing up in the toilet when I finally arrived. I recovered afterwards and walked to the sink slowly and painfully. I took a clean washcloth and ran cold water onto its fuzzy, dry surface. I began to dab my face with the towel and splashed some water on my face in an attempt to calm myself down.

"You really fucked up this time, Frankie-boy," I mumbled to myself with dismay.

I set down the now-drenched washrag and firmly grasped the sides of the sink with my hands. I gazed at my own reflection in the mirror in front of my face. I sighed at myself with unsatisfactory thoughts. Eventually, my head grew tired of holding itself up and leant down to rest on the mirrored glass. My gaze was transferred down into the sink. Why did I always screw everything up?

I grumbled to myself and sauntered into my bedroom, allowing my body to collapse onto my mattress. My eyes fixed themselves on the ceiling as I thought about absolutely nothing. In this time of regret, at least I could find comfort in the fact that my father was not home. I didn't care at all where he was, I was just thankful that he was there and not here.

I woke up on a dreary and rainy Sunday morning, unaware of when I actually went to sleep the last night. It was all a bit hazy, but when I saw my sheets stained with dried blood, everything flushed back to me.

"Fuck," I sighed while holding my head. Over the past night, I had acquired quite the headache.

Getting off of my bed was a bit tricky. I found that I was slightly woozy either from lack of blood or migraine; maybe a mixture of the two. My feet trudged across the flooring as I made my way to the bathroom. My ugly reflection stared back at me, letting guilt rush through my veins once more. It was then when I realized exactly how bad last night's damage was. Dried blood was all over me. I supposed that it would be best to clean it all up before anyone would notice. Ah, who was I kidding? No one cares.

Once my arms were bandaged and covered up with long sleeves, I zipped up a Misfits hoodie and prepared to embark on a hopefully refreshing stroll out in the rain. The water felt cool against my hot skin. Each droplet felt like a bullet, causing new goosebumps to arrive. Each dripping drop hit me with one hundred pounds. I counted them and gave each a reason why I was so worthless. I felt empty and dead. I suppose Gerard had given me a reason to live, but now that I had genuinely screwed up everything we never had in the first place, I was back to a world of depression.

I dreaded school tomorrow. How was I going to face him? I couldn't. I knew I had to go; I had already missed so many days already. If I did not attend school, the principal would phone my father and take him to court. I wasn't stupid enough not to realize that nothing good would come from that. I just could not fathom having to see Gerard after what I had done.

BING! BING! BING!

The bell for the end of second period sounded. I gathered up my books and dashed for the classroom's exit. So far I had avoided Gerard. We only had one or two classes together, and those were in the afternoon. This meant that I could spend all of my morning classes strategizing and planning out how to place myself out of any bad situations I might have with him. Did I really need to do any more damage to him?

A few more paces and I was in my third period class. I couldn't think straight. The lesson was blurry and my brain would not process my iPod's music. My hands would not write and my head would not lift itself from its current position. My eyes were vacantly placed on the desk's surface for the entire period. The sound of the bell caused me to practically jump out of my skin.

'One more period until lunch,' I reminded myself mentally, gathering my materials and heading out the door at a snail's pace. On the way out of the door, I bumped into someone. I looked up from the floor and saw that a boy with sandy brown hair and black-and-white rimmed glasses was glaring at me.

"Come with me," Mikey commanded flatly while he grabbed my wrist and attempted to pull me away from the hallway.

"Ow!" I softly complained. My wrist wasn't healed yet and quite frankly hurt like shit.

Mikey furrowed his eyebrows at me and let go of my arm. He motioned me to come inside the boys' bathroom. I finally got to take a good look at him and saw that his eyes were red and puffy, almost like he had been crying. All-in-all he looked a bit disheveled.

"Okay look," he began, sounding very serious, yet having his voice sound a bit crackling, like he was about to cry. I nodded slowly and motioned for him to go on.

"I don't know what happened… but Gerard hasn't talked once since he came home from the park Saturday. He won't talk to me. He ALWAYS talks to me! We tell each other everything! He wouldn't even write it down; nothing! Do you know what it's like to have your big brother ignore you and not respond?! It hurts!" Mikey cried. A few tears slid down his cheek. I never thought I would see him like this. He had come across to me as a strong, confident person. I suppose first impressions can be misleading.

"I… I had to stop him… from killing himself…" Mikey trailed off, whispering in a barely audible tone.

"He was going to… he's all bandaged up from head to toe. It kills me to see him like this all the time! I can't do this! Fix this!" He practically screamed.

I reached out to hug him. I knew what pain felt like; physical and emotional. Mikey certainly did not deserve this. As he accepted my arms and leant forward to sob on my shoulder, I let his words sink in.

I did this to him, to Mikey, to myself. Why was I such a coward? I wanted to yell, to scream. This was not supposed to happen. I had just gotten a friend and within a short while, I ruined any chances of happiness for myself and caused Gerard to almost take his life, leaving his brother a crying mess on my shoulder. What was wrong with me? I knew I had screwed up… really bad. But, I could still fix this… maybe? Mikey said I could. Could I? No matter, I needed to at least try.

"I promise you that I will make this right again," I swore.

"Pinky promise?" he asked through sobs.

I reached out my littlest finger and twisted it around his. He gave me a rather overdramatic hug and kissed the side of my head. I could tell that he had been very upset about this, it was definitely not that hard to guess. I was the one to blame, and I had to put back the pieces as best as I could get them to fit.

I spoke up after a few brief seconds of silence, "I'll do it right now."

"B-but… he's not at sch-school. He stayed home to-to-day," Mikey informed me.

"Then I'll go there. This will be better, I swear to you."

I turned to walk out of the bathroom when Mikey called me back in. I looked back at him to see what he might need. He gave me a broken smile and spoke, "Thank-you, Frank." To that, I simply smiled as best I could and ran out the entrance and through the school hallways. I flew through the school doors and scrambled down the stairs. I lifted the latch on the school gate and closed it behind me, never looking back at it once after taking off for the Way household.


	23. Let Me Be the One to Save You

I practically threw open the Way's front door. Immediately, I ran directly down the stairs into Gerard's bedroom and flung the door open. In front of my eyes, I saw another set. They were a beautiful shade of hazel, but they appeared glassy and sad. They looked up and me in both shock and dismay.

My eyes traced down the owner of the hazels' body. I noticed that in his hand he had a small silver piece of metal. Without thinking, I threw myself on top of him, which caused him to fall back on the mattress, and ripped the blade from his hand, promptly throwing it across the room. I took his head in my heads and kissed his forehead and then his cheeks repetitively. I left one last one on the tip of his nose.

"I'm so sorry," I whispered, now beginning to cry. I wrapped my arms around him, never wanting to let go.

"I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I'm sorry!" I chanted over and over, kissing his cheek after each plead of forgiveness. When I finally let him go, he sat up and grabbed something from the top of his nightstand. It was a pen and a pad of paper.

He wrote, 'I forgive you.' Quickly on a page it the book and held it out for me to read. I couldn't help but notice that his handwriting was impeccably beautiful. It appeared in curly, twisting letters of a fancy script. There was no denying its beauty, just like the beauty of its owner.

I replied to his forgiveness with a grateful hug, but felt a pang of sadness when it had processed in my mind that he had not talked to me at all yet. I needed to hear his beautiful, silky, music voice. The silence was too much to bear.

"Promise?" I asked him, "I know I've fucked up… badly." I looked down into my lap.

Gerard flipped the page in his notebook and readjusted his legs so that they were criss-cross applesauce right in front of me. With his pen, I watched him draw out each letter in his impeccable script in record time. He showed me his response. 'Do you really think I can be mad at YOU? If one of us is to blame here, it's me…'

I furrowed my eyebrows. "You are at no blame! I was a coward and ran away! I was scared and spineless! You did nothing wrong." I promised him.

He picked up the pad again. I peered over the pad and read it as he wrote. 'I knew I shouldn't have kissed you… I knew it would ruin our friendship. But… I wanted to. Now I can't take it back. Don't blame yourself for my mistake.' He stopped for a second and scratched the last sentence out. 'No. It wasn't a mistake. I meant to kiss you and I don't regret it. I just… uhg.' Once again, he drew a line through the final phrase. 'It's complicated.'

I looked into his eyes; his hazel, shining, teary, gorgeous, oceanic, wonderful eyes. In a voice almost too quiet for even myself to hear, I whispered, "But it doesn't have to be."

Gerard did not get to write back, because I caught his hand in mine and brought it up to my lips. He allowed my kiss to linger on his hand and looked down at it seeming a bit confused. I could read his facial expression loud and clear; 'Why are you doing this?'

"Because I want to." I responded aloud to his silent question.

I pulled my lips away from his hand, but still held in my own. I was extremely unaware of where all this newfound confidence was coming from, but I just let it lead me to my next move.

I looked into his oceans of grey, green, and brown. They were so amazing. You couldn't help but stare for ages. He looked back into mine, which weren't nearly as mesmerizing, in my opinion. The world seemed to slow and I could hear his breathing in the silence of the basement. Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale. Inha-

I caught his intake of breath with my lips. At first, he seemed surprised and caught off-guard. However, after a few moments, he leant into it. I could feel his tears against my skin as it fell down from his eyes. I pressed mine against his a bit harder, and he followed my example. I didn't want this to ever end. This was perfect. But as they say, all good things must come to an end.

We broke apart, and I felt butterflies explode in my stomach. How does he do this to me? I get weak on my feet just by looking at him. Fireworks explode when only my hand brushes across his. I can't find words, I forget how to breathe, and lose myself in his beauty. However, there is one thing that always sets my heart over the edge; his smooth and magnificent voice.

"You're so perfect," I subconsciously mumbled to him. I watched as his shy cheeks lit up in a rosy crimson shade.

"Come on. Let me hear that stunning voice of yours," I smiled at him, holding his chin in my hand.

I shook his head violently, causing me to pout. I gave him my best puppy dog face, but he only rejected my proposition further.

"Please?" I asked, leaning my face closer to his. He shook his head.

"Pleeease?" I pleaded, resting my forehead on his. He gave me another shake of his head.

"Pleeeeeease?" I begged, pushing him onto his back and laying on top of him. I kissed his nose and waited for a response. He looked at me sadly and gave one single shake to his head.

"You just don't realize how incredibly perfect you are, do you?" I sighed. Gerard looked up and me and quickly looked away, trying to hide his shyness.

"You're my only friend in the world. You're my best friend in the world. Let me hear your pretty voice," I cooed to him, tucking a loose strand of black hair behind his ear.

He was looking down in his lap; however he was moving his head up-and-down oh-so slightly. His eyebrows furrowed in what appeared to be determination. What he was determinate of, I was not sure. He kept performing these strange actions, until I became aware that he was trying to speak to me.

"Is…" he began, in a very, very hushed tone, "Is th-this bett-er?"

I wrapped my arms around his shoulders and held him tight. "Much," I smiled.

I ended up staying at Gerard's house for the rest of the day. We looked through comic books, played video games, and I even happened upon some of Gerard's artwork that I had never seen before. He grew a bit shy about it and asked to put it away, but I reassured him that his work was absolutely fantastic, which it certainly was.

Overall, the day was fantastic. After talking to Mikey, I felt a lot more confident that I had the power to fix things. It turned out working a lot better than planned. Gerard wasn't mad at me anymore, or at least it didn't seem like it. He was laying next to me on his bed. The conversation had ceased a few minutes ago. The silence wasn't awkward; it was actually quite the opposite. No matter, Gerard decided to pipe up with a question.

"Could…could I ask you a question?"

"Anything," I replied, interested as to what he was about to say.

"Do you think I'm… weird?"

I thought about the question for a while. He seemed a bit uncomfortable asking it, but I did not dare to judge him. It took a few seconds before I happened upon a good answer, but as soon as it came to me I shared it with him.

"Absolutely."

He looked at me with mixed emotions. I believe I detected sadness, shock, and a mess of negative thoughts. He had taken my response the wrong way. I shook my head and gave a slight chuckle before I finished explaining.

"You're so incredibly strange. You have amazing drawing skills, you have the most beautiful voice I've ever heard, and you are also extremely attractive. Your hair is jet black, you hardly talk to anyone at all, you blush quite frequently, and you have an obsession with Black Flag and the concept of revenge. You are the weirdest person I have ever had the pleasure to meet, and I wouldn't take you any other way."

I watched as his cheeks flushed pink and my stomach swirled with butterflies. Goddammit! How does he do this to me? My legs turn to jelly and my thoughts are completely consumed with him.

"Really?" he asked in a whispered tone.

"Really, really. Now what do you say to some ice cream?"

"I say let's go!" he piped up in a very excited and adorably girly voice.

With that, he ran upstairs into the kitchen with me trailing lazily behind him. I felt so lucky to have Gerard in my life. He made everything good again. But with good, there always comes bad. I could swear that I felt a negative premonition run through me, but I simply shook it off and headed up the steps to enjoy a frozen desert with the most amazing person on the face of the earth.


	24. You Can Take All the Pain Away from Me

"You can stay the night… you know… if-if you wanna," Gerard asked shyly.

"If you'll have me," I smiled back. His meekness was completely adorable at times. In fact, on many occasions it would make me the one who blushed instead of Gerard himself.

To my reply, he only grinned and nodded before leading us back downstairs to his bedroom. I couldn't help but notice something peculiar about it. The lock to the cabinet in his bedside table was gone. My mind wandered off to what Gerard might have been doing in there. Inside was alcohol and pills… he wouldn't. Would he? I wasn't sure.

To be safe, I kept my mouth shut for now. A lot had happened in the past few days and an awkward conversation like that could set everything astray again. However, something kept pulling on me, begging me to find out what exactly was going on with him. I knew it could be nothing good, which is precisely why I tried to talk myself out of meddling. Things were different now, though. I needed to find out and soon.

"You okay Frank?" Gerard's voice cut through my thoughts.

"Y-Yeah I think so…"

"It doesn't sound like it," he pressed.

I put on a smile and suggested to look through some comic books, which I knew was an offer he could not resist. Ah, if only he were mine. I know practically everything about him, except the secrets. I sighed to myself. The secrets, right.

It had been about a month since I had stayed at Gerard's house that night. All the leaves had fallen off the trees and I could feel a wisp of December air tickle my skin as I stepped outside. On my walk to school I found myself overcome with thoughts and questions. There were thoughts that lead to questions and questions that lead to thoughts. All the questions were unanswerable and all the thoughts were confusing, yet intriguing.

First of all, where is my father? I am not eager for him to come home, but he is dangerous. What is he doing out there? Will he ever come back? Is he planning to hurt me, or worse, Gerard? He has been gone for a long, long time and each day creates new suspicion.

Second: was Gerard okay? I had been over to his house a few times over the last four weeks, as usual, but he seemed a bit different. He hardly told me seven words the entire month. What about the cabinet? It was always unlocked, but I never dared to look in it.

And what about Mikey? I know that we were never really that great of friends, but he is always in his room and never comes out. At school he hangs out with a small group of friends, I believe their names are Bob, Alicia, and Ray. He looks happy in school and from what Gerard has told me, he is extremely intelligent. However, whenever I visit the Way house, I never see him. In fact, the only time I have ever seen him is when the topic of conversation is concerning Gerard's well-being.

This lead me on to many other ponderings. I wish I had a brother. I wish that I could be with Gerard every second and know for sure that he is okay. I wish that I could protect Gerard and make him smile and talk and laugh. But I am just a short little outcast and he was a beautiful tall angel-

"HEY," a voice interrupted my wandering mind.

I simply kept walking. It is never any use to answer and it is just as pointless to walk away. Currently, I did not feel in the mood to counter smart remarks and so I went on down the sidewalk, almost reaching the school gate.

"I SAID 'HEY', FAG!"

Why won't they just leave me alone? What are they trying to achieve here? What the fuck have I ever done to them? Nothing. Nothing is what I've done and yet everyone fucking hates me! Why? Why does everyone hate me! What have I ever done to ANYONE! My life is just fucked up beyond measure; I can't help it! I didn't ASK for any of this! I didn't ASK to be who I am! I wasn't even meant to be here! I was a bloody accident!

I could feel the anger and rage bubble up inside of me. I could feel my eyes grow glossy and my head pounding against my skull. I thought, 'I'm an accident. I'm a loser. I'm a failure. I'm not meant to be here. I'm hated by my peers and even my family. No one should ever have to talk to me. They all deserve to hate me. I even hate me.'

With this final conclusion I gathered up all my rage and turned it into courage. I turned around, seeing that the jock still on my heels, and punched his as hard as I could in the face. He went stumbling backwards in complete surprise. He didn't look angry at all, just shocked. He didn't speak, and I assumed that he had lost all words. Maybe I looked scary. Could I look frightening? I knew that my face was hot, but I wasn't exactly sure of the expression it was housing.

"Is there something you wanted you fucking bastard?" I spat at him. His eyes were wide and I laughed at him. Jocks were just a bunch of pussies after all. I turned to walk away and had made it about three steps when a wonderful idea struck my messed-up brain. Smiling with as much venom I could muster, I strode back to the jock who was still aimlessly standing there, and kicked him in the groin. This made my fake smile pure and real, as sick and twisted that may be.

Ah, last period. It could either be the best period of the day, or the worst. Best because you knew that there was limited time left in school, and worst because it seemed to never end. The wall clock was the enemy here. It would just keep ticking and ticking and would never reach its destination. When it finally did, however, I was free.

I ran straight to my locker and pulled out my bookbag. Trying to avoid another incident at the front gate, I made my way towards the feared "Back Door." If I had not mentioned this before, this door was used by no one. It isn't exactly known as the WHY the back door is so dreaded, it just is. There is not a thing wrong with it, but no one dares to use it, not even administrators. But hey, I'm not complaining. It makes one hell of an escape route.

Quietly, I sneaked out the door and was about to round the hideous brick corner when I heard someone tapping on the brick. It seemed like this person was tapping to the beat of a song. I fell silent. What if this person is bad news and heard me come out from the door? But that is when I took the time to actually listen and realize that this stranger had Black Flag blaring so loud on their earphones that they could not possibly hear the world explode and then be taken over by supersized jackhammers.

So I took the chance to get a good look at the stranger. They had black hair, a red tie, and- Gerard! It was Gerard! I was about to get his attention when an invisible force stopped me. Something wasn't right. I was not sure what was going on, but something inside of me screamed to be cautious. So I layed low and watched, waiting for something to happen.

Only a few seconds later, a boy with shaggy blonde hair and black eyes approached Gerard. He smiled at him with fake happiness and I detected a poisonous era about him. His motions were smooth and his face was clean. There were no freckles, blemishes, marks, nothing there. He had large muscles that you could see through his tight shirt. One might call him "hot", but he did absolutely nothing for me.

As he approached, Gerard shoved his earphones into his pocket and gave a small, obviously forced smile. It was almost like a child who had to go to the doctor, hating every second, but not wanting to make a fool of themself. Gerard looked a bit uncomfortable to be there, and I could guess that I was about to figure out why.

"Hey," the stranger greeted seductively. Immediately I hated him and everything about him.

"Hi, James," Gerard spoke quietly and afraid.

"Speak up, bitch. I can't hear you."

Gerard tried to be a little louder and it killed me. Talking is hard for him and I would never even think to do that to him. "Hey, James."

"That's alright, you'll be making louder noises by the time I get through with you," James winked and laughed.

What? What was he talking about?! I wanted to scream and yell, but I couldn't risk getting my cover blown, not yet at least. I needed to find out more.

"James, please," Gerard begged. His eyes were getting teary and I began to well up myself. What was this James going to do to my precious Gerard?

"Do you want it or not you little fuck?" he growled, obviously knowing that he could take advantage of Gerard.

"Yes, but-"

"But nothing. You know you only get it if you do a good job," James smiled, showing all of his crooked white teeth. He disgusted me.

"Okay, I'll do good! I swear!" Gerard was crying now and I watched as tears trickled down his helpless face. He seemed so desperate for something. I wasn't sure what it was yet, but I was going to find out.

"That's my little Ger-Ger," he cackled and messed Gerard's hair. I almost laughed at the stupidity of his nickname. James needed to learn some manners or his arrogance would lead him to bad places. If he dared to touch a hair on Gerard, I would come after him. Sure, I might not look like much, but my father had rubbed off a couple things that may come in handy.

"Well, come on now. I don't want to waste too much time. I've got others that are actually worth the hassle, sweetie." James sang into Gerard's ear.

My eyes followed the two as they made their way to James's car and drove away. I couldn't possibly try to follow their car. It was just too fast. But I wanted to know what was going on now more than ever. Something very, very bad was going on right now. I needed to know what it was and I needed to know as soon as possible. But how?

Was there any clues that could possibly help me figure out what was happening? I needed something to just click and explain itself to me, but I found no such miracle. Maybe they had left something behind? I left my hiding place, knowing that James and Gerard would not be returning, unfortunately. I did not even know where they went.

I searched the ground of where they had stood only two minutes ago, feeling a bit like Fred from Scooby Doo. I was searching for clues and answers to mysteries, but I was no cartoon crew of professionals. I had absolutely no fucking idea where to begin. As funny as it sounds, I began to feel a bit like Velma when she had lost her glasses. She always acts like a fucking mentally impaired girl when all that is missing is her glasses. Maybe that's what I need: glasses. Perhaps not literal glasses, but something to help me see through this thick fog of a mess. Quite frankly, I feel like an idiot searching around on their hands and knees for something that probably isn't even their, just like Velma. I need someone to hand me my glasses. But who could have them was the question?

Gerard is definitely not the most popular kid, and so not many people would know anything at all about him. Maybe a teacher that he was close to? His art teacher, maybe? I doubt that he would tell his art teacher something that he would not tell me, however and I mentally scratched that idea out.

His mom? She would most certainly know a lot of things about Gerard. But what if he didn't want her to know about this? Letting her know might disrespect Gerard and there was probably a reason she did not know if this was the case. I added this suggestion to the discard pile as well.

Perhaps one of James's friends? Or James himself? No, I immediately threw those ideas out. For one, I had no clue what kind of person James even was. I could be putting both myself AND Gerard in danger by talking to him. Putting Gerard in danger was the absolute last thing I would ever want to do. Second, not knowing who James was meant that I definitely had no idea who his friends were.

Who else was there? Who could know pretty much everything about Gerard and who he might have associations with? And that is when it dawned on me.

Mikey Way would know.

So off I went to visit the Way household.


	25. You Should Never, Ever Know

I reached the Way household in record time. What can I say? This was important. Without hesitation, I ran up to the doorstep and let the knocker rise and fall. Before I knew it, Mikey had opened the door and led me upstairs to his bedroom after a short exchange of "Hey".

Once in his room, Mikey motioned for me to have a seat on his bed, while he rested on his chair, aimlessly plucking at his bass. I couldn't help but wish that I was as talented as the Way brothers. Sure, I could play guitar, but they were amazing at their crafts. Gerard the poet and artist and Mikey the bassist and mental genius. Then there's Frank. The kid that can strum a guitar and that's about all.

"So…" Mikey trailed off.

"So," I followed his example.

"What's up?"

"Uh," I began, unsure of how to exactly tackle this. "I have a question… about Gerard."

Mikey laughed. "Gerard is one complicated person. I don't even think I know what goes on in that big Wonderland of a brain he has. Although he does tell me practically everything. So hit me."

"Okay," I tried, "Do you know anything about a kid with shaggy blonde hair and dark eyes-"

"James?" he cut me off.

"Yeah, that's him."

"Why? What did he do? If that fucker even came close to Gerard I swear to God I'll kill him with my own bare hands!" Mikey demanded.

I'll admit, I was a bit scared now. Mikey never cursed. I assumed that I was correct about James: he was nothing but trouble. I wanted to know what he had done and I suppose that I had come to the right man for the job.

"That's just it. I don't know. I went out the back door from school to-day and saw him approach Gerard. They left in his car and Gerard looked extremely sad and afraid." I explained.

Mikey balled his fists. I was terrified. Never before had I seen him like this. "That motherfucker where did they go? Do you know?"

"I have no clue! I couldn't follow them because, well, I don't have a car and they drove off to quickly. I was hoping that you would know or at least give me some information about him so that I could help."

Mikey sighed, "Be careful. James is extremely violent and short-tempered. He won't hesitate to beat you into dust. If you really want to know and think it will help Gerard, I guess I can tell you the story…."

"Please," I begged.

"Okay, well James is Gerard's ex-boyfriend. Gerard never wanted to become associated with him in the first place, but James has ways of getting exactly what he wants. I suppose he wanted Gerard because he's quiet, shy, and easily manipulated. It's sad, but true. Gerard is a very passive person and doesn't know how to stand up for himself. James would do horrible things to him like beat him and burn him and even made him into an anorexic. That took years and years for him to get over and cost our family hundreds and hundreds of dollars for doctors to help him get better. He felt useless and worthless every second of his life thanks to James. But that is certainly not the worst part. James introduced Gerard to alcohol, which he was resisting to take at first, but like I said, James has his ways. Gerard became an alcoholic for the sheer purpose of making the pain from James go away. And Gerard still is. My brother will go out one night and not come home and I'll have to try and find him."

I was… speechless. My eyes were on the brink of tears. How could I not have known this until now? I felt like a horrible friend. Gerard was so beautiful and kind, he never deserved any of this.

"I… I never kn-knew," I managed to choke out.

"Let me finish. Gerard thought that James loved him in a very twisted sort of way. I guess being abused blinds you from the obvious things in life. Almost every night James would take Gerard home and- I'm sorry," Mikey was tearing now and trying desperately to speak what he wanted to say, "and would… rape him until Gerard was bruised and broken. We lost track of how many hospital visits he had had. Everyone there knew us by name. Take into consideration that this all began in his seventh grade year. Can you imagine being beaten and raped in the seventh fucking grade?!"

'Yes,' I thought, remembering all those years my dad had fucked with me… metaphorically AND literally. But this wasn't my place to speak. This was my place to listen and help Gerard. I loved him and I would protect him from this James guy even at the cost of my own life.

"James made him feel like a waste of space and told him to kill himself over and over, to which Gerard actually tried many times. He wouldn't talk to anyone anymore for fear of them getting mad and hurting him. I'm- I'm sorry I can't talk about this anymore…" Mikey trailed off. He apologized once more and excused himself to the restroom.

I told him that I understood and remained in Mikey's room for a good five minutes after he had gone simply processing what he had said. I didn't expect for things to unravel so quickly. But I knew in my head and heart what I had to do and got to work on it as soon as I could.

Before I left the house, I wrote Mikey a note explaining that I needed to be going and thanking him for the information he had given me. I was at the front door when the temptation hit me. I tried to shut it out, telling myself that it was a violation of privacy, but I couldn't help it. I had to look in Gerard's cabinet.

I tip-toed downstairs, even though I knew Mikey probably would not care. He was worried about Gerard, too. I sighed before I opened his door and told myself that I wasn't violating his privacy, I was making sure that he was safe. And that was a task I would perform even after I was dead and gone.

Slowly, I made my way to the cabinet in the table beside his bed. Before I opened it, I breathed in his comforter and smiled when his scent filled up my senses. It gave me courage and hope and I quickly opened the cabinet door, much like ripping off a Band-Aid: fast to get it over with.

My smile faded when I analyzed its contents; nothing. Not a single thing was inside the stash-area. I walked over to sit on his bed, trying to comfort myself with the smell of his pillows. My hands held up my head and I felt hopeless. How was I ever going to go about fixing this? This was never going to work. But I couldn't give up now, I knew that for sure. It was a bit of a relief in a way. That seemed to be the only thing I knew for sure.

I was just about to exit Gerard's room and finally make my way out the Way household door, when I saw something that peeked my interest. On his desk, I noticed a laptop that had turned to its screensaver. I supposed that the reason it hadn't died yet was because it was still plugged into its charger. I laughed when I saw silly pictures of Gerard and Mikey, Gerard and his family, Gerard and… me? Since when was my face good enough to be on a screensaver? Who would even want to SEE my face? My heart exploded into butterflies when I remembered how kind and beautiful he was. It was moments like these that gave me faith.

Tearing my eyes away from the screensaver, I moved my finger back-and-forth on the mousepad, waking up the laptop screen. I felt bad for looking through his computer, but hey, I was only curious. I guess it's true when they say that curiousity killed the cat.

The screen woke up to a chat box. I think it was an Instant Messager of some sort. I don't have any reason to be on an IM site, seeing as I have no friends, but I went to high school. I knew SOMETHING about them.

The past conversation Gerard had had was still pulled up on the screen. Looking at the top of the site above the chat box, a bold text read, "WELCOME, BLACKSEANCE." I smiled, realizing that this must be Gerard's username. How creative he was.

I read through the few messages BLACKSEANCE had sent to a user named, "JAYJAY45. It didn't take my long to realize that this JAYJAY45 character was, in fact, James. I wasn't that stupid, although it may seem so. Biting my lip, I began to read through the conversation, smiling at Gerard's correct use of punctuation:

JAYJAY45 : hey gerger u miss me

BLACKSEANCE : Please leave me alone! I told you, I'm done!

JAYJAY45 : dont b like tht uk u need me

BLACKSEANCE : I don't need you, leave me alone!

JAYJAY45 : u always need me, babe =) ull ALWAYS need me bcuz I have sumthin u want, n u can only have it if u do a good job

BLACKSEANCE : Please! Please, James! It hurts!

JAYJAY45 : ull come, u always do

BLACKSEANCE : okay James… where?

JAYJAY45 : same place as usual dont b late I got others, u rnt special, uk

BLACKSEANCE : I know… just another fuck in the mattress, right?

JAYJAY45 : im so proud of u babe! Gotta go! I have a bit of biznes to take care of! Bye bitch!

BLACKSEANCE : Bye, James.

JAYJAY45 : remember ur worthless =)

BLACKSEANCE : I…

BLACKSEANCE : I know.

I was… astonished. All this was happening and I had no clue it was going on! How could I be so oblivious? I needed to find him. I needed James's address or a car or something. However, there were many, many faults in my plan to rescue the princess Gerard from her evil raping abusive motherfucker ex-boyfriend.

One; I don't know James's address and I have absolutely no way of figuring that out. Even if I had a car, wouldn't it look a bit suspicious to follow James all the way to his house? Mikey would have told me where he lived if he had knew. I couldn't just walk up to James and ask say, "Oh hey, I heard you were fucking the boy I love into a mattress every night and giving him something that I'm not sure quite what it is yet. Give me your address." That might not work so well.

Two; what the actual fuck would I even do if I found out his address and was there when Gerard was being used? Would I walk in a scream, "STOP!" like the heroes in movies do? Would I throw something through the window in an effort to make him stop? Do I just barge in and declare, "Motherfucker, Gerard is MINE!" and attack him with a chainsaw or something? I was certainly not the hero type. I could have every piece of data and evidence collected and have a flawlessly created plan with all the tools needed to execute it with and still have it blow up in my face.

And three; what if it does not work at all? What if I get myself killed and Gerard beaten up and bruised even worse? What if I make everything worse than it was to begin with? I thought about those questions for a while and then came to a conclusion: Gerard was worth it. I would protect him at even the cost of my own life. That wouldn't be a bad way to die, now that I think about it; in the place of the one you love. It might even be satisfying. Killing two birds with one stone: tell him you love him and protect him from harm.

This was only still an idea, however. Ideas need materials and plans before they can be considered a mission. What a mission this would be, indeed. It had all the qualities of a video game or movie: danger, rescuing someone, the bad guy, everything. The only difference was, that in video games you get multiple lives, but in real life, I only get one.


	26. Too Much, Too Late, and Just Not Enough

I looked for Gerard on the way to school the next day , but I could not seem to find him. In fact, the entire school day he seemed to be missing. Perhaps he had skipped school to-day? That lead my mind to wander into a large downwards spiral. What had happened to him? What if he was dead? I supposed that I would find out at the end of the day when I exited out of the back door.

It was two minutes and twenty-seven seconds exactly until the bell rang to release us of this Hell they call "school." I couldn't take this; the pressure, that is. I still had no plan, hell, I didn't even have and IDEA of what to do. It was almost as if someone had thrown a spool of thread down a bleak hallway and watched as the thread would unwind with each turn. Each day, each minutes, each second creating a new turn. The thread was unraveling more and more until there would only be an empty, white spool halting the process.

One minute. This life was like an hourglass. You could watch as your time slowly, but surely narrowed down. Most of the people chose to go out and make the most of their time. But me? My life had already wasted away. I preferred to sit and watch the sand funnel from the top area to the bottom. Each second allowed many grains of sand to slip down the glass, making me freer and freer. One day the glass would be empty, as would my body. However, I felt already empty. I felt as if my life was already gone. This was why I needed to save Gerard. I loved him. He deserved to savor each grain of sand. He deserved so much more.

Thirty seconds. There is no one. There is no one left to help me. I'm gone. Dead. Left behind. But Gerard, he has someone. That someone is me. I only had thirty seconds before the gates would be open, and the tiger would be released to attempt and devouring its prey. The only question? Was the challenger smarter? Was he more cunning? I needed to be smarter, slyer, faster.

Ten seconds. Breathe. In. Out. In. Out. In. How did it go again? Oh, yes; out. Count the seconds… eight. Seven. Six. Five. Four. Three. Two… One-

BRIIING.

I couldn't feel my feet beneath me. The ground felt like air. Maybe I was flying, maybe I was insane; I wasn't quite sure. All I knew was that my feet were dragging me out the back door before I could tell them to turn around. The ugly hallways were blurred in my mind. All I could see was that little forbidden door at the end of the flooring. I needed it. I needed to be outside of it. I was determined.

I am not sure why getting out this door was such an ordeal. I suppose when you finally feel as if you have a purpose in this life, it makes you a bit crazy. I wasn't just crazy, however. I was crazy with determination; the determination to get answers. I had questions and goddammit I was going to get answers.

My breath caught in my throat as I practically fell through the door. So much for having a cover, I suppose. The sheer velocity of the rate at which I burst through the door caused my to fall the concrete ground once outside. Considering the fact that I only had a thin strip of brick wall to hide behind, I struggled to get up and try not to expose myself to whoever would be out there waiting for Gerard.

"Aye!" I heard a voice yell. I froze in fear. Someone had seen me!

"Fuck," I cursed under my breath. It took me a few mintues, but I slowly realized how incredibly screwed I was. The owner of the voice wasn't just some druggie that Gerard had probably had the opportunity to engage in conversation with. This was… James.

"Ger, where ya goin', babe?" he called to me.

'What a fucking ASSHOLE,' I thought to myself. I noted that the little voice in my head was pretty pissed. 'He can't even tell that I'm not Gerard? Who in the world could confuse such an angel like him with such a… well, ugly bastard like me?'

Scrambling to my feet as fast as humanly possible, I slammed back against the little brick wall that I had hid behind the previous day. Maybe he would go away. Yeah, that's it. He wouldn't find me. No way. I'm perfectly safe here; behind this wall.

I guess you could say that my brain was certainly not functioning properly. I had some sort of glitch. Now that I thought about it, I suppose the glitch was always there. It was there in my mother's death, it was there in my grandparents' furnace room, and it was there for every other terrible incident I had occurred. I believe that the glitch was even what brought upon the idea to stay alive for Gerard. You see, the 'glitch' was like a sort of mental Novocain. It soothed me. It calmed my brain, heart, veins, eyes, ears, and bones. It helped me manage.

"Aye!" James' voice cut in, battling with my glitch. The voice was trying to break through the barrier of comfort that my mental Novocaine supplied. I knew the glitch wouldn't last, it never did, but it helped. A little help can most definitely go a long way in situations like this.

I started to shiver against the wall as I felt his footsteps draw near to me. Each step frightened me and I felt the comfort slowly wash away. My breath was caught in my throat and I knew that soon enough James would round the corner, figure out that I was not Gerard, and kill me.

"Babe?" he questioned one last time, before reaching my hiding spot and looking a bit confused. His facial expression showed me that he was certainly shocked, which I did not blame him for.

"Well, who do we have here? You aren't GerGer," he smirked with a disgusting suggestiveness.

I cautiously replied, "No…."

He stepped forwards and placed one of his beefy fingers on my waist. I watched as he wet his lips and bit the lower. He leaned in to my ear and whispered, "But I sure as hell might take you home instead."

I tried my hardest to push him off. "It seems as though you're expecting someone?"

"Forget about him, babe. Just another customer. Wanna be next in line?"

I whined in fear as he pressed his lips to my neck. He was so much stronger than me, what could I do? I pushed and fought, but he never seemed to get discouraged.

"I'll reward you if you do well, pet." He cooed into my ear. It wasn't a nice coo, however. It was a venomously whoring coo.

"Get off!" I yelled, struggling once more to push him off of my neck. He wouldn't budge an inch.

Against my skin, he laughed and retorted, "Not until I'm done, I won't. I'm gonna make you scream."

He pushed me against the schoolyard brick wall and pinned me there, unable to escape. I closed my eyes tight, so I wouldn't have to see his hideous face that wanted to bad to abuse me. The darkness of my eyelids also helped me to think a bit whilst James bit and pulled at the skin under my chin.

Soon enough, he had trailed his way up to my cheek and over to my lips. He forced his tongue into my mouth and displayed all of his violent lust on me. The movements were so harsh and sharp it felt as though I might bleed. Without warning, he grabbed my hand and moved it to his… lower regions, I suppose you could call it. I gasped in my mouth from utter shock and disgust, but he took it the complete opposite way and moaned into my throat.

It was then when I zoned out and weighed my options. It appeared that I currently had three. One; kick him in the balls and run like hell. I'd run to Gerard's house and tell him everything and confess my love and we'd defeat James together. Two; kick him in the balls, run like hell, and then devise what I would do next in the comfort of my own home. Or three; go home with James and find out what he does to Gerard practically every night.

It did seem that I had quite the predicament. I began to evaluate the options that I had laid out for myself. With my mental pencil in my mental hand, I put a big, thick line through Number One. I mean, come on. That was ridiculous. That left me with the two more sensible choices.

I had the absolute perfect opportunity to just knee him and run. I could have time and time was valuable. I could think up a proper plan that would have a checklist and steps. I found that I quite liked checklists. They seemed to organize things and put them in a sensible manor. However, sometimes plot twists or surprise attacks changed the order of lists. Right now, there seemed to be a lot of surprises.

Then again, I wanted to know how Gerard was "rewarded" and what exactly took place at these "appointments" with James. I only had a very vague idea that highlighted one certain term: "rape." It wouldn't be that terrible for me. I had been raped plenty of times by my own flesh and blood. I knew how it worked and what to do, no matter how sad and disturbing that was to think about. I could give James what he wanted easy-peasy pumpkin-peasy. In return, and also without knowing it, he would give me precisely what I needed; information.

I put both choices on a little mental scale that I had created in my head and weighed them. I watched inside my mind as the scale tilted back and forth, a bit unsure of where to land. Eventually, the machine stopped swaying and told me what I was to do. I actually ended up smiling at the fact that I, of all people, was about to use, trick, and manipulate people to extract from them exactly what I needed. I was going to get what I wanted, and to make sure, I was going to put on a damn good show.

With my choice made, I zoned back into my life and noticed that James was acquiring a problem that I would have to fix. I hated him with every square inch of my body and I would let him know exactly how much I did.

With as much force as I could muster, plus the grand element of surprise, I turned us around so that James was the one pinned to the wall. I cruelly attacked him with my mouth biting and pulling and snapping at his skin in a way that I knew would make him bleed and feel pain, but also in a way that drove him even more insane with lust. He wanted it and he would pay.

I licked up his neck and bit him with my messily clamping jaws. I was aware that he would only feel pain as I drove my teeth in so deep that it drew crimson from his skin. I also used cunning and intelligence to figure that he enjoyed the agonizing feelings. After all, it didn't take a genius to figure that one out.

I led him on with ease and perfection. I could guess that some might call me a professional, even though my experience had come from all the wrong places. I enjoyed inflicting hurt to him, however. It felt good and strong to be the one in charge. I was in control and I was going to get whatever the fuck I wanted. And right now I wanted answers, and the only way to get those was sex. I would pay the price. Gerard was worth a little struggle. I'd rip out my own heart with no questions asked and serve it on a plate for him if he would ever choose to ask.

I groped and tangled and grinded myself around James, making his brain cloud up. I could tell that it was working and I smiled in satisfaction of my success. I whispered for him to take me home, I'd love to be his next customer. He sang out, "Mmmm," in response.

This would work. It would work flawlessly. No matter the consequences, I could do this, and I would do this. I would do this for Gerard, even if I come back fucked-up and half-dead. This was going to work.


	27. Is it Hard to Stay Clean?

"My name is James, just so you know what to scream, dollface. What's yours?"

"Silly boy, you don't need to know."

It was fast. It was furious. It was a blur. And it was all fake. It was just a trick; a cheap trick. It made me laugh within the heat of the moment. I laughed, quite hysterically, indeed, but who would care? He was too busy getting a cheap fuck and I was too busy entertaining myself with the dark rewards of my success.

What an ignorant soul. How could he be so blind? He thought of himself as the lion, the one making all the rules, the one in charge, the one on top. But, no, not to-day. I was the lion. I was the leader. I was the one calling the shots. The abuser has become the one being abused: what a twist.

The power went to my head in flushes of mad enjoyment. For once, I had control. This little whore was being used so easily, and he was so completely oblivious to it. And so this made me laugh between the bites and kisses and all the meaningless movements.

It was hot. It was dirty. It was everywhere. And it was all completely and purely meaningless. Within a while, it was all over. We collapsed onto the bed panting and exhausted. However, this was not over. No, it was not even close to being over. In fact, this was only the start.

"Pay up, sweetheart," I whispered into James' ear. I played his sick game, now I wanted my cut.

"Alright, sugar. Gimme one second," James replied as he caught his breath and walked out of the room. With each step I heard him take, I laughed harder. I may have seemed a bit insane, but I found great personal delight with how well my plan was working itself out.

James re-entered into the room with a box. He handed it to me without speaking. The box was dark blue and perhaps the size of a shoebox. On the box's lid was a black stripe in a vertical direction. I wondered to myself what could be inside, but this was not the time or place to discover things.

"I figured that you would want the usual, peach?" he cooed into my ear. He disgusted me.

"You figured correctly. I'll be leaving now," I announced to him.

"Aw, but lamb, we could have so much more fun. You're so much better than all my other customers. Why don't you stay? I've got some dangerous things that we could play with," he smirked with an evil glint of lust plastered in his eyes.

"No thanks, sweetheart. You make me sick," I whispered into his ear before I bit down on his neck so fiercely that it drew crimson blood when I finally let go.

With my hateful farewell, I turned on my heels and walked out of his small, filthy home that smelled of drugs, booze, and sex. As soon as I exited the front door, I ran as fast as my legs would carry my to my own home. I needed to know what was in that bag and I needed to know why Gerard was not at school.

I ran, passing each and every corner in a blur. I wasn't thinking, as my mind was already made up. I had a strict schedule to stick to now. If I screwed but one solitary thing up, it could affect the health and living state of Gerard.

When I reached my own door, I practically threw it open as I raced to my bedroom and slammed the door into its frame. I sat down on my bed an eagerly set the box on my lap. This was it. This is what Gerard was getting from James. Hopefully, this would also fit some of the puzzle pieces together.

I slowly lifted the lid and found that the inside was aligned with black tissue paper. For such a whore, he certainly does package his goods cleanly. Sorting through the chic paper, I found that there was not just one item, there were multiple. I pulled them out one by one, getting a more gut-wrenching feeling with each new one I retrieved.

Item one was a bottle of liquor: strong liquor. Item two was an orange container of white prescription pills. The next item was a packet of antiseptic alcohol wipes. The fourth was a roll of bandages. The fifth that I pulled out was… a box of bullets. And the final thing that I extracted from the blue-and-black box was a note that was rolled up and tied with a bow in black lace.

I was already shaking from the sight of all the objects that were spread out on my bed. I did not know if I could stomach reading the note at this particular moment. I lifted my trembling fingers to the bow of lace and pulled it undone. I stood up and cautiously laid the strip of ribbon onto my desk. Slowly and with my eyes closed I unrolled the note when-

KNOCK. KNOCKKNOCK.

Startled out of silence, I dropped the note onto the floor and scrambled back to reality. I quickly placed all the items back into the box that they had come from and slid it under my bed. Then, wondering as to who in the world would ever visit me, I turned my attention to the front door.

I pulled it open to find a very drunk-looking Gerard standing at my doorstep. His hair was disheveled and his eyes had dark, purple circles around them. His face and arms were bruised and there was red blood trickling into his hand from his wrists.

"Heeey, Frrrannkk!" he greeted me in a slur, whilst adding a little chuckle.

"Gerard," I breathed, still completely in shock from both the box and his latest appearance.

He simply grinned and tilted his head back to laugh as a response. I added onto my incomplete thought with a quiet, "What happened?"

"I got drunk!" he smiled, showing me all of his teeth.

"I can tell. Come inside, Gerard. You need to get cleaned up."

I hated to see him like this. He was abused and taken for granted. He felt as though no one loved him, but that was not true. Mikey loved him, his mother loved him, the school art teacher loved him practically like a son, and well, I loved him as well. He was bullied and taken advantage of and placed under the influence. I loved him so much. I could give him the whole world and more. But, I was too scared to admit it.

I took him inside and helped him onto the living room couch. I instructed him to stay there while I went to the bathroom and retrieved a washcloth. It then dawned on me that inside the box I had received for a "reward", there had been antiseptics and bandages. On my way back to Gerard, I retrieved those as well, while still pondering why they had been in there.

Gerard kept mostly hushed whilst I cleaned his wounds. I dabbed the cloth onto his skin carefully, as to not make anything worse than it already was. For the most part, his cuts had stopped bleeding. They were extremely deep and I felt a sharp pang to my heart each time I looked at them.

"Why did you do it?" I asked him shyly, not wanting to pry.

"Who me? I thought it would look preeeetttyy. Like you!" he answered sounding as high as the sky.

"You took drugs, too. Didn't you, Gerard?" I asked, trying to hold back tears. He was falling apart fast. Why couldn't I fix this sooner?

He giggled like a little schoolgirl and replied with an excited, "Yep!" I supposed it was then when he saw my eyes that were threatening to let tears go. He grew silent as I put the washcloth down and tore off one of the antiseptic packets. I attempted to rip off the top, but I could not manage it.

"Try it from the other end," Gerard whispered. I followed his directions and pulled at the other end of the packet. To my surprise, it opened with ease. I pulled out the towelette and looked suspiciously at Gerard. How did he know that they opened easier on the opposite end? It then dawned on me that he had received his fair share of those boxes and those boxes all contained the same brand of antiseptic wipes. I sighed stiffly, swallowed, and worked on disinfecting his wounds.

He flinched from the alcohol's sting, but let me clean him up without retorts. When I was finished, I threw away the towels, as the washcloth probably wasn't worth the trouble of washing, and plopped back down next to him. I exhaled deeply, still a bit afraid. To my complete shock, he leaned over and kissed me on the cheek.

"Thanks," he spoke softly.

"Here, you need to sleep. It's late," I told him. I hadn't realized how quickly the time had gone by and it was already twelve in the morning. I helped him up and lead him off to my bed to lay him down. He looked completely horrid to say the least. Of course, he always looked beautiful; I simply meant that he was in poor shape. He looked too pale and thinner than usual. He was maimed and bruised and beaten up. I kissed his cheek once I helped him to take off his shoes and left the room so that he could sleep.

Before I left the room, however, I picked up the little note from inside the box. I had forgotten to pick it up before I had answered the door, and so it was still resting on the ground. With it safely in my pocket, I exited the room and went to lie down on the couch.

With only a table lamp on, I reached for the note and unraveled it once again. This time, there were no interruptions and I began to read the note to myself. I supposed that its author way James. Saying so, his handwriting was not that atrocious. It was written out in a simple black inkpen that seemed to smudge every few words. This being said, however, I did not have to struggle to read it. The note read:

"To Whom It May Concern,

Congratulations! You must've been a pretty good fuck, otherwise you would not have received such a reward. You may have noticed that there are quite a few items in this box. However, you probably already know what to do with them, eh? If you're a new recruit, well then, I'm sure that you are smart enough to figure it out, but you'll get off easy this time. All others, do not forget that if you do not do as told, I will kill you without any hesitations. Oh, and I've added a roll of bandages for your little self-pity parties afterwards. Enjoy, sweethearts!

Most Sincerely,

James XOXX"

Fuck. What have I gotten myself into? More importantly, what has Gerard gotten himself into? What the hell does he mean by "first timers get off easy"? My head was pounding and my heart was beating out of my chest. What was going on? By now I was hyperventilating.

How do you breathe again? In. Out. In. Out. In. In. In. In. Out. Forget breathing, I needed a drink of water. I ran into the kitchen and filled a glass halfway with tapwater and attempted to allow it cleanse my mind. It wasn't working. Nothing was working: not my mind, not my lungs, not my life, nothing. I can see why he would have chosen to add the bandages now.

I raised the water to my lips and felt the chill of the water engulf my stunned lips. I kept the water in my mouth and swished it around, trying to clean it free of the pain that was clogging my brain. In. Out. In. Out. Slowly, I let the clear liquid trickle down my throat. I hadn't yet swallowed, but I felt myself hesitate to do so. Something was holding me back.

'Just swallow, Frank,' I told myself. What a funny thing to do, swallow. So many people do it. So many people just swallow down all the insults thrown at them. They just swallow down the words that they meant to say, but were to afraid to say it. No. I won't swallow. I'm done swallowing.

"NO!" I screamed, throwing the still half-full glass against the kitchen tile and watching as it smashed into sparkling pieces. I felt the pain as a few shards bounched of the tile and back into my skin, hooking themselves inside and letting blood fall back down with them. The water in my mouth was now spit onto the floor.

I looked onto the white tile and saw the glass mixing with the blood and water. How quickly the pure water was being poisoned with the blood and glass. No, that water was not going to be safe and sound inside of me. It was going to face the truth and feel the pain. It would see the blood and feel the sharp points of the shards of glass. It wasn't going to be swallowed. I wasn't going to be swallowed. Not to-day.


	28. We Got the Bomb

"Uhg," I heard a voice mutter from down the hallway. Oh, that's right; Gerard spent the night.

"Frank? Why am I here?" he asked sounding extremely confused while rubbing his head. I supposed that he had acquired quite the headache.

"You were really drunk, so you ended up here. Let me get you something for your head…" I trailed off.

"You didn't have to sleep on the couch," Gerard noted with concern.

I laughed, "Where else would I sleep? You think I'm going to sleep in my dad's room? You're crazy!"

"No, I mean- nevermind," he shook his head. I cocked one eyebrow wanting to know what he was going to say. However, he did not continue on. A little disappointed, I went on with getting him some medicine and a glass of water.

"Take these," I instructed and waited until he had finished to pick up any other conversation. When he did swallow down the pills, I took my chances with some questions. I started out by asking why he had decided to become so heavily intoxicated.

"Try something new every day," he said with a shrug. Of course, I wasn't that stupid. I knew he had been drinking for some time now. For God's sake he kept a stash of it in his bedroom.

"Great, well then why were you high?" I pressed.

"I was NOT high!"

"You most certainly WERE high, Mr. Way."

"Goddamnit." Gerard breathed a heavy sigh and I watched as his eyes began to threaten tears. He sauntered over to the couch and sat down head-in-hands. I heard him begin to sob and could not take the sight. I walked over and sat next to him, taking his hand in mine.

"Gerard, I can't stand to see you like this. You're falling apart," I mumbled in his ear.

"I-I'm perfectly fine, I swear," I promised me. I did not believe a word. Gerard's life was spiraling downwards at an alarming rate. Each day that went by he became worse. Each and every day he was put into more danger.

"You're not okay, Gerard," I stated firmly.

"Listen to me! I'm fine! Why don't you fucking believe me! I promise! I'm fucking fine!" he yelled in tears as he stood up and waved his arms around. When he was finished, he sat back down and his head fell against my shoulder in defeat. I held him close as he sobbed into my tee shirt. I hushed his sobs as I began to rock him back and forth.

"Hold on, Gerard. I'll always be there for you."

"That's the problem! I've been holding on forever!" he cried as he sat up to look me in the eyes.

"Then you can last a little longer. You can't leave me, Gerard! You can't just fall apart until there is nothing left!"

"I didn't want all of this to happen… I made a terrible mistake. I was just so sad and-" I knew what he was implying, he did not have to continue speaking.

"Shh, you need some rest. Look at you; you're practically a zombie," I stated, while covering him up with some blankets. He did not argue with me, so I assumed that he also felt that he should get some sleep. Within a few minutes, he was out.

I took this opportunity to rediscover the box that was now stashed underneath my bed. Maybe there were some clues or hints. I don't know. Anything would be helpful now. Was I supposed to just wait for something to happen and then I would know exactly why I was given each item? Is it that well planned out?

I spread the items across my bed once more and counted three. This made sense since I had removed the bandages, the antiseptic wipes, and the note last night. That left me with the prescription pills, the liquor, and the bullets.

Alright, Frank, let's use logic here. Maybe those years of math and science would finally come in handy. Well, using common sense, I guessed that both the pills and the liquor were strictly for the customers' personal use. Gerard seems to be using his own alcohol and prescriptions for himself, so this conclusion would only make sense. Now that I had the bandages and antiseptic figured out (for cutting purposes, no matter how sick-and-twisted it was of James to put those in there) and the last two items as well, that left me with the confusion of the note and the bullets. What the holy fuck were the bullets for and how the fuck was I supposed to know what he was talking about?

I was not provided a gun, so what was the use of only a box of bullets? Was this some kind of hidden message that I needed to figure out? How am I supposed to understand this? I'm just barely passing English class! I sat still in thought for a while. I needed a new strategy to solve this, a new tactic perhaps. I need a source of information. This source has to know about James, his "rewards", and Gerard. My best chance? Michael Way.

I couldn't go now since Gerard was currently passed out on my living room couch. If I had a cell phone I would call him, however I do not own such devices. How the hell would I afford a cell phone and who would ever want to get ahold of me? There seemed like no use in getting one. Of course, in times like these you never have what you need. Home phones are too tricky. Mrs. Way could pick up or overhear or God knows what else. I suppose I could message him on that website I discovered on Gerard's computer, but that was much too risky as well. You can never be too cautious. What if my father came back and snooped through all my things every time I left the house? What if Gerard opens the computer up to see it? I mean, that would take forever considering that our "computer" (more appropriately nicknamed "dinosaur") were to ever promptly start up. But like I said before, you can never be too cautious.

I came to the conclusion that I would have to wait it out until Gerard woke up and then devise a plan to get him out of both my house and his own house. God DAMNIT, what if James finds him? There are always complications in plans. This is why I need to stick to lists and bulletpoints.

One: discover why I need a box of bullets, but no gun.

Two: discuss with Mikey Way about James and his motives.

Three: keep Gerard safe and away from James.

Four: chill the fuck out and have a Pop Tart.

Yeah, that sounded like a plan. I just needed to put all of these dangerous objects back in the box and away from my sight for a while. Call it a sort of coffee break. While Gerard naps, Frank gets a little time to calm down as well. Deep breaths would help, most certainly. I just had to lay down on my bed and stare at the ceiling for a while and think of all the beautiful things in the world; Gerard's perfect face, Gerard's hazel eyes, Gerard's button-nose, Gerard's adorable laugh, Gerard's amazing voice, Gerard's-

My thoughts are cut off by the sound of the doorbell. At this point I had absolutely no clue as to who could be at my house. The only person who ever stopped by was Gerard and I had still not figured out why yet. No one else knows my address except for him. Could it be… Dad? Oh no, not him. As I approached the door as slowly as I pleased, I hoped and prayed that whomever I found behind the front entrance would not be related to me in any way, especially not paternally.

I eased the door open a millimeter at a time, still extremely afraid to see whatever face was lying behind it. However, once the door was fully opened, I did not see a face. Come to think of it, I did not see arms either. In fact, there was not a single body standing in the doorframe waiting to come inside or murder me. All that was left was resting peacefully on the ground in front of me. I almost stepped on it whilst stepping out a bit to see if the giver of this object was anywhere to be seen.

There were two items sitting on the flooring of the porch. The first, and largest, was on the bottom. It was but a square-shaped box wrapped in brown paper, much like the material that a brown paper lunch-bag is created from. It was tied with a paper ribbon as the usual cliché mail is sent. There was also an address label with a verified stamp, although the sender's name I did not recognize.

"Who is Michael J. E. Ceandease?" I wondered aloud to myself. I had never once heard that name before. It was quite an odd name as well, but who am I to judge someone's name?

On top of the larger box, there was a little black pouch with a drawstring to close it. I picked the pouch off of the box and pulled on the string. I found that there was a little note inside of it. It was written in nice handwriting, but it was nothing fancy. When I set the pouch down, I heard a clack as it hit the counter. Confused, I reached back inside the bag to find a little sweet inside wrapped in glossy orange paper. I decided that it was best not to eat it, as I was still unsure of whether the sender was a friend or foe.

Carefully I unfolded the paper and was about to begin reading, when I heard an odd noise. I wriggled my eyebrows in confusion, and tilted my head somehow believing that this would allow me to hear more clearly. The noise was very faint. It was sort of like a ticking sound.

I looked around the house. What would make that sort of noise? A watch, perhaps: or a clock? We only had three clocks in our home, if I could recall correctly. There was a clock on the microwave, there was an alarm clock in my bedroom, and the other was on the oven. However, none of those could make a ticking sound, as they were all digital. I then had to reconsider what the sound might be coming from.

Hmm. Did Gerard wear a watch? I seriously doubted this idea, but decided to check anyways. I walked over to him and looked at him arms, which were twisted into positions that looked incredibly uncomfortable, even though he was not grumbling in his sleep. In fact, he was doing quite the opposite. Before I turned to let him have some peace as he slept, I heard him mumble, "No, Mikey…. That's-that's MY unicorn…." I laughed silently at his remarks.

A few minutes had passed and I had checked every possible source I could think of. It was hard to pinpoint exactly where it was coming from because the sound was everywhere, if that made any sense. Think of how a ventriloquist can throw his voice so that you are not sure of where it is coming from. That is how the noise was. I wasn't going to lie, this was making me extremely nervous.

I sat down, defeated, in one of the kitchen chair, aimlessly staring into space. I had checked everywhere and could not find where the hell it was coming from. Quickly, I had turned from disappointed to pissed off. What the fuck was it?!

I sighed and decided to open the larger package that had arrived on my doorstep. I walked over to it and was working on tearing off the paper ribbon when I noticed that the ticking sound was ever-so-slightly louder. Cautiously, I lifted the box to my ear and discovered that the sound was, in fact, coming from inside the package.

"What the hell…" I spoke softly. As I said this, the noise stopped completely. I was growing very worried as a handful of seconds went by. Everything was quiet. Not even Gerard dared to make a sound in his sleep.

BEEP. The box made this sound at an extremely loud volume.

BEEP. It sounded again.

BEEP.

I dropped the box and took a few steps back, holding my hands out in front of me to use as a shield. Whatever was happening, I doubted that my hands would save me. I noticed that the sink was behind me, so my subconscious, and also full of stupid ideas, mind decided that I could just blast the unidentified enemy with the hose.

BEEP.

I gave a silent laugh. What was I worried about? This was a tiny little box sitting on my counter. Maybe Dad had ordered something in the mail before he took off for God knows where. Feeling more confident, I stepped towards the box.

BEEPBEEP. BEEPBEEPBEEP. BEEPBEEPBEEPBEEPBEEPBEEP!

"What the fuck?!" I exclaimed at the same time that the box gave one final eruption of, "BEEEEEEEEEEEEP!"

Before I could realize what was happening, my eyes filled up with an orange colour and I felt myself thrown back in the air against the cabinets behind me. I screamed as the pain hit my back and head. Everything was happening so fast. I attempted to shield my eyes from the glass that was falling down on my from the broken china on top of cabinet set.

I heard a second scream, this one sounding both desperate and terrified. Gerard! Fuck! I tried to help, but my body refused to let me move and my mouth refused me to create words. I saw black dots in my vision and my mind was clouded as I attempted to put together what had just happened.

As I was racking my brain for answers, I began to be aware that liquid was dripping down on me at an alarming rate from my head. My mind was able to comprehend this, thankfully. At least if I had head damage it was not that bad. 'Blood,' the little voice in my head told me. I lifted my hand to my head and brought it back to my vision. It was completely red, which lead me to believe that I was loosing a lot of blood.

While it was true that I was terrified and possibly on the verge of passing out onto the floor and bleeding to death, I fought everything in my body to let me move. When I was able to sort-of move my limbs again, I made my way over to Gerard. I felt tears threaten in my eyes as I saw his body against the fireplace bloody and wounded.

"Gerard," I whispered, sinking down to meet his eyes despite the pain. To my words, he only whimpered and did not dare to move. I did not know what to do. Should I try to move him? What if that made it worse? I did not want to hurt Gerard and although I was on the verge of death myself, ran as fast as I could, which was not very fast considering the situation, and grabbed the telephone, dialing an ambulance.

I heard the voice on the other end of the line greet me with a, "9-11. What is your emergency?"

I felt relieved that I wouldn't have to wait. "I need an ambulance right away."

"Please give me your name and address and we will send one on its way to you," the woman spoke, sounding completely unchanged by my frantic tone of voice. I supposed that it was part of her job to remain completely calm at all costs. I shook my head, trying to clear my thoughts and gave her all the information that she needed. When I was finished, she thanked me, although I thought I was the one to be thanking her, and hung up reassuring me that in a matter of moments my wish would be granted.

As I waited on the ambulance to arrive, I made my way over to the box. It was quite clear that whoever had sent it was definitely not a friend of mine. I was thankful that I had chosen not to eat the candy that was in the pouch. The whole box was blown apart, but on the floor I noticed the address label. I picked it up and gathered the note as well, carrying them off to my room. I safely placed them in the blue-and-black box that James had given to me.

"Michael J. E. Ceandease…" I whispered to myself.


	29. Breathe With Help from the Machines

"He's awake, should I give him the medicine?" was the first thing that I woke up to. I hadn't opened my eyes yet, but I could tell that the place I was in right now was most definitely not my home. I seemed to be positioned in some sort of uncomfortable bed and the temperature was colder than my taste.

Slowly, I batted my eyes open and observed my surroundings. I was in a hospital. Great: just the place I wanted to be. I first assumed that I was in some sort of waiting area for Gerard, but I soon noticed that I, myself, was in a bed hooked up to tubes and wires that held purposes that I was sure would make me woozy to think about.

"Glad to see you are awake, Mr. Iero," the same nurse that I had heard before greeted me. I simply nodded, still attempting to take all of this in.

"I'm just here to give you your medications. After you called the ambulance, you passed out from blood loss and were taken here along with your friend who was already unconscious," she explained while handing me a glass of water to take the pills with.

"How long have I been out," I managed, noticing that my voice was a bit raspy.

She casually responded with, "About three days."

I choked on my water glass, almost spraying the nurse with the clear liquid. Three days!? I was almost certain that it had only been a few hours! The nurse seemed to notice my surprise and commented back to me.

"You and your friend lost a lot of blood, Mr. Iero."

My friend? What friend? My memory was still clouded and hazed. I remember there being fire and heat and blood, but no friends. I remember being blown against the cabinets and trying to get up in order to save… Gerard!

"Is he okay? Is he hurt? I need to see him right now!" I spoke out hastily and with frantic fear.

"We believe so. However, I must tell you the unfortunate news that he has still not woken up. You will be one of the firsts to know if he does, Mr. Iero. His bed is, of course, just on the other side of that curtain," she informed me, gesturing towards the sliding curtain that was now closed, separating us. What a vile object.

"Can-can I see him?" I whispered.

"Well, I was given instructions not to disturb his privacy until he has woken, but as long as you keep this our little secret I suppose it is alright, just this once. However, you must remain in your bed as to not interrupt the work of the machines we've set up to monitor your healing progress."

I thanked her profusely, and she slid open the curtain and waved me a goodbye, leaving me alone with Gerard's unconscious figure lying peacefully in a white hospital bed. He looked so beautiful asleep, his body healing and repairing itself. I only wish that his mind would do the same thing. I wished that he could have peace inside his head and think only happy thoughts instead of only troubling ones. I wished, most of all, that he would awaken and I could see his gorgeous eyes and hear his silky voice and hold his soft skin in my arms. All of that would have to wait until his heart decided that it was time to wake back up.

Hours passed through the day and it grew to be the evening. I did not spend time thinking about the events that had happened, nor did I attempt to figure them out. I gave myself a day to rest and repair. I let myself watch Gerard's chest rise and fall. I tried to send him messages in my mind. Inside the comforts of my own head, I even told him that I loved him a couple of times.

Before I knew it, the nurse came in and gave me my nighttime medications and told me that it was time to try and get some rest. She reassured me that Gerard was not dead: his body was still functioning. This helps me to think all through the night: knowing that Gerard is still alive. It isn't just tonight when I use this thought to send me into a Dreamland. Even when I know insomnia will overtake me, it aids me to change my thinking process to him. I can know that he is still out there and he is still alive, he is only sleeping. As soon as he wakes up, we can walk to Starbucks together or rent a horror movie or talk about anything and nothing in the park. In the night sky, he is always only a few hours away.

Beep.

I shot up in my bed, suddenly. Had it been only my head? I had heard a strange beeping noise sound from somewhere in the room.

Beep. Beep.

I looked frantically around. A bomb! Not another! This time I would certainly die and Gerard as well. I had to find the bomb, but I was stuck by tubing to my bed.

Beep. Beep. Beep.

It came out in a steady rhythm. But wait, what if this was only in my head? It could be a sort of PTSD that I had aquired from the incident a few days ago. Yes, that was it. However, it sounded almost too real to be fake.

Beep. Beep. Beep.

"Fr-Frank?" I voice called out to me.

I concluded that I was now mental. I was hearing both beeping sounds and voices. I tried to piece my sanity back together as the beeps kept coming out. But to my dismay, I heard the voice call out my name once more, only this time it was more urgent.

I kept attempting to pass the noise away, but after I heard increasing footsteps marching my way, I grew terrified. The person, or monster, if I was now actually insane, was on its way over to meet me. However, too my surprise, the person was not ON its way so much as it WAS a Way.

"Gerard," I breathed, reaching up to wrap my arms around him. "You're okay,"

He hugged me back and kissed my hair. His strong arms protected me and kept me warm. I inhaled his scent, which was altered slightly from the hospital's disinfecting methods. I looked into those hazel eyes that I had been so deprived of. I never wanted to go so long without seeing them ever again. However, I did notice something odd.

"Gerard, why aren't you in bed connected to the tubes?" I whispered, afraid that not having the medicine flow into him would make something bad happen.

"I found my way out of them. I missed you, Frank," he spoke quietly with tears threatening his eyes.

"I missed you, too. More than you could ever know. Please. Don't ever leave me for that long again," I pleaded into his ear as I buried my head in his shoulder. He made his way into my hospital bed and continued to hold me tightly against him. I knew that he had read between the lines of my last request. I didn't mean simply the time that he had been unconscious. I meant the time that he had spent away from school and the time that he had spent with James, even though he was not aware that I knew of that.

"I won't. I promise." He told me sincerely. I felt like this would be a perfect time to say 'I love you', but of course, I wouldn't. I was too afraid: too scared of rejection. I had just gotten him back, I did not want to loose him again.

It had grown later in the night, and neither of us could fall asleep. It wasn't that we were not comfortable: far from it, actually. No, the reason that we were still awake was the pure fact that we did not want to part from each other. In the morning, the nurse would most likely make Gerard go back to his own bed. She would take his shaggy black hair and beautifully pale skin out of my arms. I wanted to spend every second I could with him. We had already lost so much time.

Our precious conversation soon turned into a request for a game of Twenty Questions. I happily obliged to this request and he gave me the first question of the game.

"If it was your last day on Earth, how would you spend it?" he questioned me.

I knew the answer right away, "With you." I blushed at the speed of my response, and Gerard leaned closer towards my face in order to place a kiss on my cheek.

"What is your best memory?" I asked him, taking my turn.

He looked down to his lap when I asked him this. He looked shy about giving an answer to this question. I took his hand in mine, trying to comfort him with my touch. He helped me to become at ease, and so I gave vice versa a try. It seemed to work and he looked into my eyes and quietly mumbled, "Our first kiss."

I smiled, our eyes still locked. It was quiet and peaceful, the only noise erupting from the traffic outside our room's window. There was just Gerard and I. That was all. I wondered if I should kiss him, but my subconscious mind beat me to it. I was leaning forwards to connect our lips once more. Against his lips is where mine belonged. I could feel his warm breath against my face as our noses touched, daring one another to move closer. We were only a few centimeters away from true bliss when-

"Doctor, he's awake!"

The nurse that I had talked to earlier came in the room and took my Gerard away, just as I suspected she would. She hooked him up to the machine that made the beeping sounds as he took each breath. I decided that as long as that machine would let me know that Gerard was still here with me, it wasn't that bad.

I watched as the doctor came in and turned on enough light so that he could see, but not disturb me. I assumed that he thought I was asleep, as I was not moving. I listened closely as the two tried a hand at asking him some questions about his health and memories and such. However, they grew confused as they discovered that Gerard would not answer them. I was a bit hesitant about helping them out at first, but I soon realized that the sooner they received this information, the sooner Gerard would be well again.

I called the nurse over and explained to her that Gerard did not feel at a state to hold conversations and that I could take care of any questions that they had for him. The nurse and doctor seemed reluctant to have me explain Gerard's medical needs, but nodded their heads in unison and began with their spool.

Before I knew it, they had left to retrieve Gerard's proper medicines and bring the two of us some breakfast. Gerard had fallen into a slumber as the night had turned to dawn. I did not want to disturb him and kept quiet, humbling myself with the thoughts of his wellness.

While the room was unoccupied by everyone except the two of us, I slipped out of my bed and unhooked myself from all the machines that I was attached to. I made my way silently over to Gerard's figure on the bed and leaned down to press a kiss against his forehead. As I began to walk away, I swore that a small smile had formed on his lips.


	30. You Get What Everyone Else Gets

Gerard and I had been kept in the dreary hospital for a whole week. The doctors wanted to be sure that we were both stable and ready to be let out. Unfortunately, Gerard was given orders to wear a cast on his leg due to broken bone. However, he was given crutches and I was completely unopposed to carrying him anywhere he would choose to go. Eventually, however, they set us free and we walked out the glass double-doors. I did have to admit, I felt better than when I usually lost a large amount of blood. It also comforted me to know that Gerard was well again also. Well, for now that is. I would have to keep a close eye on him.

The wintery air chilled my arms as we made our way home. As soon as we grew to the fork in the road where we had to part, Gerard took me in his arms and placed a single kiss on the top of my head. I smiled fondly at him, trying to let my eyes tell him how I felt. However, it does not always work that way and we were forced to pull apart as a foul wind blew across our already-chilled figures. As we parted Gerard sent a little wave my way before he turned around completely; gone from me until tomorrow.

I placed the key in the lock and suspiciously noted that the door was already opened. I furrowed my eyebrows in thought as I tried to recall how this would be possible, as I always locked the door before leaving my home. This was not exactly the safest neighborhood, and well, you never know what could happen. I finally decided that the ambulance workers had left the door unlocked upon their exit, even though it was a foolish thing to do in my opinion.

Still hesitating, I twisted the knob and let myself inside. The lights were all turned off and I mumbled to myself about how the workers had at least enough decency to save electricity before departing. They had not made any effort to clean it up, however. The whole house was a mess. Doors were falling off of the cabinets and glass figures that once sat upon the mantle now rested in sparking fragments upon the ground.

I couldn't help but have an unnerving feeling in the pit of my stomach. Something seemed off about the house. I was sure that the feeling was simply produced by my mind to warn me to take caution next time I accepted a foreign package into my home from and unknown sender. Honestly, who actually mails bombs to other people? One thing was certainly for sure: if I didn't feel safe before, I definitely did not feel safe now.

Nonetheless, I proceeded to my bedroom and head straight for the box containing my own personal mystery. If I had not already had the piss scared out of me, I might have felt like Fred from Scooby Doo. What can I say? Scooby Doo is badass.

I removed the lid silently, half expecting something to jump out and eat me alive. However, it was not the box that had sent out a blood-curdling scream from the living room. It was a person, a familiar person. I jumped to my feet in haste and scrambled out of my door to see what the Hell was going on.

Time seemed to have stopped, or at least gone by freeze frames. It all went by too fast for me to register what I was doing. When lives are on the line, it is simply instincts and subconscious ideas that lead you through life, I suppose. It is times like these when a second equals out to an hour, or an hour equals a single second.

There he was. He was disheveled and disgusting, but this was simply his normal fashion. I depicted a wave of bloodlust slither through his hasty eyes. He was covered from head to toe in bloodstains and dirt. What a way to accessorize. It certainly is capable of making a statement, nevertheless. But most importantly, he had my Gerard.

His crimson-painted hands had a grip around Gerard's neck, blocking his breathing passages. When he saw me approaching, his smile only grew wider and more grotesque. I could see the determination radiating from his body. I knew that this was going to end badly. This was not like other times. There would be no beat, rape, and leave. This time it would be different and not a tear would be shed in regret.

I drew closer to him and began to inhale the scent of liquor that found its way into the air. It only intoxicated me with rage and fury. I wanted to tear the skin from his bones and soak in the liquid of his demise. It ends now.

Without thinking, I lunged forward and aimed my hands for his throat. I had found a sort of hidden strength that I never knew had existed. Taken by sheer surprise, he released his grip from my love, and I watched as Gerard fell to the floor. I sent a single glance towards Gerard's direction, making sure that he was okay. Immediately afterwards, I turned my attention back to my prey.

"Hello, Dad," I spat into his revolting face.

"I was wondering when we'd meet again, Frank. In fact, I have a bit of a bone to pick with you," he voiced in a mock-cheery voice.

Within seconds, I felt him turn us around and pin me to the wall instead. He sent a blazing fist into my stomach and laughed as I growled in pain. He pulled a knife from his back pocket and held it to my throat.

"How did you get these?" he demanded. My eyes grew wide as I saw what he was holding; the bandages and antiseptic towelette wrappers that I had thrown in the trash from the night I had used them on Gerard. They were the items that I had received from James' box, as well.

"What the fuck do you mean? They're simply medical equipment! I used them to heal a wound!" I screamed at him, hiding my fear.

He held the knife closer to my throat. If it had been any closer, a cut would be forming. My father gritted his teeth and threatened, "You know what these are from and you had better fucking talk or I will cut every limb from your Goddamned body and kill your precious boyfriend right here, right now."

"You will leave him the fuck alone!" I yelled as I grabbed the weapon against my esophagus with my own hand, redirecting it towards my father. He had other plans, however, and kicked me to make an escape. My dad flew straight to Gerard and pulled his limp and weakened body from the ground with one arm. The other arm he used to position the blade against his throat with.

"Talk or he dies."

"Get your hands off of him," I commanded fiercely.

He drew a thin line across Gerard's esophagus and giggled manically as his victim screamed aloud. I watched in horror as the wound filled silently with fresh blood. This wouldn't be the only blood shed tonight.

I was unable to control my movements. My body was functioning purely out of bloodlust. I remember lunging forward and causing my father to make an incision on himself. This, of course, only further angered him and he recovered in time to regain control of Gerard's body and hold the weapon in front of his chest, prepared to kill. My father's hands were shaking with anticipation and psychotic rage.

"TELL ME WHERE YOU GOT THE BANDAGES!" he screamed with desperate anger.

"GET THE FUCK AWAY FROM GERARD!" I hissed back.

"I'd lower your tone if I were you, sonny. You see, I could make so many pretty patterns on your silly boyfriend's little chest," my father giggled, suddenly calm again. "I think I'll start right… HERE!"

I watched in pain as my father wretched the knife into Gerard's side and saw his white shirt spill red. Gerard leaned his head back and let his voice send ripples of sound echoing around the house. He fell to his knees and assumed the Fetal Position in effort to soothe the pain, but I unfortunately knew that this would come to no avail. However, this was the last straw for me.

I am not sure what I was saying, but it involved a slur of curses and was directed by pain and hurt. I directed each evil word towards my father and grew disgusted as he only smiled, pleased, in response. My veins felt ready to burst. He was dying! My Gerard was going to die! No. The score would not be left unsettled and I would save my precious boy.

As my father asked me one final time, "It's too bad that he has to die this way. One last chance, Frank; where did you get them?"

I only half-heard his question, due to the fact that something sparkling silver caught my eye. I walked towards it, dazed. He had continued to ramble on about how Gerard's death would be a true tragedy. He was mistaken. It wasn't going to be Gerard's death that we would be mourning. In fact, there would not be much mourning at all.

"You could say that I'm a bad man," my father cooed to himself, "But I'm only doing my job. That's really not so bad. Who would miss you anyways, my dear?" he whispered to Gerard. He chuckled as a joker and added, "No one. So I take a little life here and there. What's so bad about that?"

My subconscious mind led me to me desired object. I held it firmly and closely in my hand and stalked towards my target. This surely would not be a night to forget! Well, always make scenes as these dramatic, I guess. As if I had any control over the actions I was perusing, though. What could I say? Like father, like son.

I listened intently as my father continued his mindless speech. "Death is such a touchy topic. I say; do it and savor it, personally. Some where meant to live, and some were meant to die. Humans are, as they say, the most exciting animals to hunt. They have cunning and common sense. However, they are still weak-minded and ignorant. There is the hunter and then there is the prey."

I grew closer and closer to him. He was a vicious and nasty murderer, but would this make me any better? The consequences of my near actions were acceptable, however. Gerard would be safe for now, and that was really and truly all that mattered.

"I am the hunter, and you, my boy, are my prey. I've caught you fair and square and now you are dead. You have to admit, you did make it quite easy for me. I've had such more difficult times. I work so hard, so hard for the Society, and what do I get?"

I raised my knife with macrabe vigor and sunk it into my father's back, right into his heart, with a cry of, "YOU GET WHAT EVERYONE ELSE GETS! YOU A LIFETIME!"

That was it. He was dead. Gone. Nothing. I laughed nervously. I laughed harder. And harder. He was gone! Dead! What a dream!

His lifeless body collapsed, cold and finished. I got a crazy, disgusting, horrid idea, but it was beautiful in my eyes. Giggling with terrorized glee, I ripped the knife from my dead father's back and exposed his chest. I screamed as I wrote, "GOODBYE DADDY" on into his skin.

As I was finishing, I became aware of another presence in the room: Gerard. He was yelling for me to stop my actions and sounded absolutely horrified. I dropped the dagger and looked into his eyes. I had not noticed that I was crying until now.

"C-come h-h-here," he whispered, stuttering from the traumatic sights that he had just witnessed. I felt instantly guilty and remorseful for having had Gerard see me as the animal I was behaving like. However, I crawled into his arms anyways and allowed him to rock me back and forth steadily.

"Y-Y-y-you need-d to get-get b-back to the ho-ho-hospital," I attempted. My words were not forming correctly.

"No, no. Shhh," he cooed. "Not now. I'll go in the morning. We need rest."

"But Gerar-" I began to protest.

"No."

I sighed and stood up from my seating arrangement. Carefully, I lifted Gerard from the floor, aware of his broken leg and injured side. I was scared to death that I would harm him in any way, and so I took my time and made sure that he was comfortable. I set him down on my bed cautiously, kicking the blue-and-black box under my bed before he could see it.

"I'll be right back," I told him as I placed a few blankets over his tired frame.

I returned to him with some medicine and a glass of water. "I'm not actually supposed to have this medicine, but my mom always had a secret stock of it for the nights when Dad was at his work violent streaks. She left me a large portion before she died. I-I guess she-she saw it coming. The-the murder, I mean." I paused to clear my throat and regain myself. "It-uh-it kills the pain instantly."

"Thank-you, Frank." Gerard leaned up with all his might and began to stumble back. I caught him before he fell, though, and held him in my arms. He was shaking, and I wrapped my arms around him to calm his, and my own, nerves. Gerard tilted his face to press a cold kiss to my cheek.

I broke our faces apart and looked into his beautiful brown-and-green eyes. He was the definition of perfect itself. I simply could not help myself. I leant in closer to his pale, weakened façade and closed my eyes. His unsteady breathing sounded on my own face. I needed comfort, as did he. And so I pressed my lips upon his own to let all the guilt, the pain, the discomfort, everything melt away. It was like the ending to a horror story, but it was alright. The maroon curtains were drawing closed for tonight, but the actors weren't finished their performance. The movie might have ended, but the sequel has just begun.

I had no idea what terrors I would have to face tomorrow, but for now, I was content. Isn't that all we can really ask for? When one lives a nightmare, they learn to love the little things, the small things. After all, these are the tiny memories that mean the most to us in our last hours. So as the curtains closed on this night, and the credits began to roll, I knew it wasn't over, but I really did not give a damn.


	31. And Would You Pray for Me?

The morning rose and took Gerard to the hospital right away. The staff seemed a bit surprised at how quickly he had returned, but did not waste any time with his recovery. Immediately, he was placed under care and I was informed that I could not see him. I tried my best to allow the nurses to let me in, however they were persistent with negative responses. Defeated, I made my way home to rummage through yesterday's damage. Maybe this would even give me a chance to think about the situation I had been handed.

As soon as I returned, I took care in dealing with the body that was resting on my floor. I stealthily buried my father away from my home so that his presence would no longer be an issue for me. When I returned home from the grotesque task, I noticed an envelope peacefully resting on the doormat. Intrigued, I picked it up and turned it over and over in my hands. Interestingly enough, I could find no stamp or return address label. In fact, my address was not even printed on the front. It simply read, "Mr. Frank Iero, Jr."

I brought the letter inside and sat it gingerly down on the kitchen table. I looked around a few of the drawers to find a letter opener. When the object was finally found, I was just about to open my mail when a thought suddenly stopped me. It occurred to me that this might not simply be a letter. After all, my home had never gotten anything from the post until very recently. What was in that package sent Gerard and I into the hospital. However, I had a certain curiosity peaking inside of me and found myself cutting the letter open before I could stop myself.

Cringing to shield myself from any danger, I pulled the letter from its encasement and found that it had been handwritten in script on a rather fancy business document. Nothing suspicious was found inside, thankfully, and I did not hear any strange noises either. I walked over to the couch, letter in hand, and sat down to emerge in its words.

"Dear Mr. Frank Iero, Jr.,

The Society greatly thanks you for your dedication and loyalty. We appreciate your high intelligence level and quick-witted ways that have helped us successfully terminate Mr. Frank Iero, Sr. As a reward, The Society has granted you a large sum of money for your efforts. You will receive this reward from the Society Member in which gave you the set of listings in the first place.

We have also noted that you are a rather new member. Congratulations! Our Society needs people like you working for us. Your hard work and diligent mindset will not be forgotten! It is in deep thanks to you that we all may cross one name off of our lists in pleasure.

How spectacular of you to figure everything out so fast! You are going great places, Mr. Iero, and will do great things. We are both highly pleased and honoured that you have chosen to perform business with us. Until next time!

Most Sincerely and With All Due Respect,

AGS

Graham, Anna"

I stared down at the paper in complete and utter confusion. What the hell? They obviously do not have me confused with anyone, as the letter was very specifically labeled and I am, of course, in charge of the murder of my father. But how did this unknown society know about this? I had not told a soul about my homicidal act! The only other person that knew was Gerard and he would not tell, nor would he have had the time or the proper health to.

I propped my head on my elbows and furrowed my eyebrows in confusion. Taking a few deep breaths, I attempted to extract any important or linking information from this letter.

One; I killed Frank Iero, Sr. and someone knows about it.

Two; Some sort of society thinks that I work for them.

Three; According to my recently deceased father, there is some significance about the bandage and wipes packages.

Four; Someone named Graham, Anna knows my address.

I redirected my train of thought once I came up with my fourth point. Did I know any Graham, Annas? The name seemed familiar, or oddly peculiar at the least. If this person had wrote out their name with the surname first, that would have to mean that their name was, 'Anna Graham.'

Anna Graham, I thought. I narrowed my eyes, feeling the cogs in my brain begin to turn. My heartbeat quickened at the excitement.

Anna Graham. I could taste something on the tip of my tongue, begging to come out.

"Anna Graham," I whispered aloud.

Anna Graham. Anna Graham. Anna Graham. Anna Graham. Anna Graham. It was all my mind could process. Anna Graham. Anna Graham. Ana Gram… Ana Gram. AnaGram… anagram. Anagram.

An anagram! It was all an anagram! It was so simple! Everything was a word game in disguise! Everything was a joker, staring me right in the face! I began to wonder if the whole letter was simply an anagram. Fumbling, I regained control of my sanity and read the signature once more.

AGS, it read. That was simple enough to decipher. Anagram Society. That must have been the name of 'The Society' that had always been referenced, but never named. I wondered if the reason they had signed it that way was because they had thought I already knew. However, I did not.

There were still so many things that I did not know. How was I supposed to know to kill Frank Iero, Sr.? I did not recall ever hearing any mention of him from anyone. He had been gone for so long and not once had I been told to murder him. The act was purely by coincidence.

It was then when a thought dawned on me. This was true. Everything was a mistake, purely by coincidence. Gerard had found me on the ground by coincidence. It was by coincidence that Gerard had followed me home when we were kids, and it was by coincidence that he stopped and saw my father beating me. It was by coincidence that I did not bleed out every time my father cut me open. A coincidence led me to James' house and it was by coincidence that he had thought I was part of The Society. Most of all, it was by pure and sheer coincidence that I had killed my father. But these people did not know that. They thought that everything was intentional, but it was not.

Another question lingered in my mind. Should I attempt to receive my award? I assumed that if I did not, The Society would find it very suspicious. In the letter, it mentioned that I should see "the Society Member in which gave you the set of listings in the first place." However, I could not recall ever receiving a list of names. Hell, I could not even remember getting a list of clues!

Playing out your coincidences as if they were intentional was certainly hard work. I had a lot of things to figure out to make up for all of the accidental actions that had been preformed. I desperately wanted Gerard's comforting arms around me, but I knew that it was best that he was not here to see this.

Thoughts of Gerard flooded my mind. Was he in The Anagram Society as well? Did he get in by coincidence? Had Gerard killed anyone on the Hit List? What if Gerard was their prize assassin? I stopped myself right there. My mind was begging to become a bit ridiculous. I assured myself that my Gerard was neither an assassin or a good one at that.

I knew that I should have kept digging deeper in the text for more information, but the wave of disbelief had hit me hard. I grew to be a bit woozy and wobbled carelessly into my bedroom. I just needed a few hours to process all these new concepts.

There were people out there… watching me. They knew exactly what I was doing and they knew that I had brought a knife to someone. What if this information were to get out? I could become locked up, just as if I were back in my grandparents' home once again.

Then again, this Society seemed rather happy to receive the insight that I had slaughtered my father. They were surprised in a positive way. They congratulated me on my efforts. What kind of sick and twisted institution was this?

I needed something to cut the shock and pain. What had I gotten myself into? I was waist-deep in this accidental mess and it was engulfing me like quicksand. I was being pulled deeper and deeper in this organization until it would eventually pull me under and bury me six feet down.

I held my knees close to my chest and frantically began to rock back and forth. I was going insane; I could feel it flowing through my veins. I was crazy, scared, off my rocker, downright terrified. What was worse was that I knew it was happening. But what could I do to stop it? I would be forced to watch as it dragged me down and down and down.

I picked up my favourite shiny little brush and began to paint. My picture was a masterpiece, so beautiful. It made me smile, despite all of the false hope that it provided.

Silver paintbrush in hand, I collapsed in my bed. I had to stay calm and stay alive. Sleep was taking over my brain, but shivers were taking over my body. I was violently shaking and breathing unsteadily. It took hours for my body to become tranquil enough to allow sleep to take over.

When it did, the sleep was unwelcomed. Nightmares haunted my every second asleep. Red, black, ghosts, death, knives, guns, people, eyes, lungs, black, nothingness, it flooded its way into my mind.

Do you know what its like to fall into a world of nightmares?

Could you imagine falling asleep, but falling back into reality instead?

Could you picture a place where life is your Hell and there is no escape?

I could.


	32. Another Knife in My Hands

Have you ever had the feeling that you deserved the hell your living? Like it's completely your fault. You've brought this upon yourself. Your stupid mistakes and petty carelessness have been and will become your downfall. It's like your drowning in an ocean that you poured out for yourself. Maybe it's ironic, or maybe it's karma, but either way, it's all on you.

When I woke up the next morning, I ate an extremely light meal and poured myself a cup of coffee. I decided that it would be of my best interest to start piecing together this impossible mystery as soon as possible. No matter how badly I would like to just sit at my kitchen counter and sip scorching hot caffeine, I knew that in this discovery, the sooner would be the better.

I retrieved all of the items that I had collected over the course of this mystery and layed them all out in front of me. I then recalled of my newest puzzle piece; that this whole situation was made up of anagrams. That at least gave me something to work with.

Now for the box. I pulled out the items from inside and set them on the counter. I still had the booze, the pills, the bullets, and the black ribbon. Previously, I had taken out the antiseptic wipes and bandages. I assumed that it was better safe than sorry to have them, and so I rummaged through the couch cushions and around the house until I had rediscovered their packaging. I added them to my pile, along with the many notes I had received along with the little sweet that had come with my detonating mail the other day.

So I was supposed to know to kill Frank Iero, Sr. with only having the resources that I possessed. I had one question, "How?" That was the big, gigantic, one million dollar question to which I had no answer. However, something in the back of my mind whispered, "Anagrams." But an anagram of what exactly? In order to create and anagram, you need to have words.

"Words…" I mumbled to myself in deep thought.

The letters, perhaps? They contained plenty of words. Maybe a secret message was hidden inside; a between-the-lines sort of deal. I hastily picked up my congratulatory letter and read it over and over, mixing up words and phrases to make new ones. Then it dawned on me. I had received the letter after completing the murder, not before. That left me with the other two notes.

I finished reading my latest letter in hopeless defeat, and remembered an important detail that must have slipped my mind. I read and reread the line many times in my head before my mind was able to fully process it.

"It is in deep thanks to you that we all may cross one name off of our lists in pleasure."

List! There must be a list somewhere! I never recalled receiving a list, however this may have been yet another coincidence that had led me into another huge mess. Me and my coincidences, I swear. However, something led me to believe that I had not been left as clueless as I had previously thought. Upon reading the letter once more, I discovered another suspicious line.

"As a reward, The Society has granted you a large sum of money for your efforts. You will receive this reward from the Society Member in which gave you the set of listings in the first place."

The fine print had told me that I had received a list. At first, I assumed the Society to have simply put my name on a pre-written document and send it out, but the more I thought about it, the more the idea went sour. The note seemed fairly personal, like they were specifically talking about me.

These people seemed very well informed, too. If I were given a list, they would know exactly who and what that letter was about and exactly when I was given it by exactly who gave it to me. How, I did not know. Nor did I have the desire to know.

Come to think of it, I had not received anything except for these few items that I had in front of me. But alas, these items had been given to me for a reason. All I had to do was discover that reason. But as I looked onto those few items, one single name kept flashing into the forefront of my mind: James.

I did not have any evidence that he was part of this grand scheme, but do you know how when an idea or a hunch slips into your mind and you just cannot shake the feeling? It was like that. No matter how hard I tried, I could not rid myself of the thought that James had done something, anything, to make himself part of this.

So, because I am socially awkward, and certain moron, I chose the fate of visiting James. Did I know that this was a bad idea? Yes. Did I know this could get either myself, or worse, Gerard, into trouble or possible death? Yes. Did I know that going to James house alone and without any real purpose besides spy-type business would probably get me into pain and/or more despair? Yeah, I knew that, too. Like I mentioned before, I'm an absolute moron.

I downed that last of my coffee and grabbed my jacket. I stopped myself at the front door to take a shaky breath and think if there was anything else I would need. I pondered this for a few seconds, and then decided to grab my latest letter. You know, to reference in privacy if needed. Things had to be answered, and I had to be reminded of what I was looking for. What can I say? I get sidetracked easily with worry.

Finally stepping out of the door, I shivered in the blasted November wind. I will agree that the cold is much better than the heat, but I could do without the heavy breezes. Since I have no car or other means of transportation, I was dreading the winter days of walking from place to place in an oversized coat and hideous scarf. Psht, like I wear those, anyways.

Well, there I was; standing on James' doorstep. I wasn't knocking, not waiting for the door to be opened, not brushing my feet against the mat before walking in. No, I was just standing there. I was choosing between knocking or making a run for it. But apparently, my hands are making the decisions for me now and went ahead to knock.

It was only a matter of seconds before I found myself face-to-face with the Devil. Well, close enough, anyways. I saw his eyes that gleamed with angry lust and evil. Was it too late to run? I found that the answer was yes when he grabbed my wrist and pulled me inside and threw me onto a chair. His countenance was projecting everything between bloodlust and torment, or inner turmoil.

"What. Do you want?" he asked pointedly, and quite frankly, pissed.

Well, that was definitely a question. I really didn't know what I wanted. I just came to find answers, but the more I thought about it, the more I realized that I actually had zero purpose being here. I forgot every single question I had, and simply sat there, dumbfounded and wondering what crawled up his ass.

"Answers?" I tried. Maybe that will make vague sense?

"I'm not a fuckin' mind reader, Ier-hoe. I'm glad you showed up, though. You're just the whore I was lookin' for." He slurred.

Shit, what have I gotten into? You're a real genius, Iero.

"You look distressed, Iero. Don't worry, you won't feel a thing by the time I'm done. Now get your fuckin' pants down before a get my switchblade out. I'm not in the mood to fuck around, never mind the puns." He smiled an evil, twisted smile and yanked my jeans down.

You brought this upon yourself, Frank. What did you honestly expect to happen when you chose to visit a sadistic, sex-crazy man with multiple knives? Count this one as both a learning experience and a punishment for being such a dumbass.

And just like that, I felt James' dirty hands all over me. It was a disgusting feeling really. I felt dirty, filthy, repulsive. I tried to fight back, but it was no absolutely no avail and I knew that it would be, anyways. I just had to take what was coming to me.

Hands. Hands everywhere. Hand on my neck, on my face, on my chest, on my waist. Everywhere. And- wait. Is that- yep. Felt that one in the boxers.

"Get this fuckin' jacket out of the damn way, bitch." James commanded.

However, he was the one to actually try to pull it off my shoulders. Instead, though, he chose to stick his hands inside of the pockets and push me back against the chair.

"What the fuck you got in here, Iero?" he muttered against me whilst pulling out the paper in my pocket at the same time.

Oh, shit. Oh, fuck.

I was so close to getting away with it. He was about to put it back when he noticed the stamp on the front. Damn marketing, I swear.

"How the fuck didja get this, ya fucker?!" he yelled, ecstatic.

"I-I-I.." this was not off to a good start…. "I found it!"

"Fuckin' liar!" he shouted as he reached into his back pocket and pulled out a switchblade that he flicked open. Oh, mother of fuck. I've dug myself quite a hole this time.

"Tell me. How. You got this letter." He commanded, "Or. I will use this little sweetheart on you. Got it?"

I shook my head, yes. Inside my head, I was thinking over the very select ways that I could make this vague. He hadn't opened it yet, and I counted that as a plus, but what if he already knew what it held? I felt trapped.

"It came in… the post." I replied, surprisingly calm. I suppose it helped a bit that I didn't have to face the unfavourable stress of lying.

"Did it, now?"

"Yes," I answered slowly.

"Do you know who sent you this letter?" he spoke with a certain kind of voice that sounded like sarcasm twisted into a certain placidness. It altogether sounded as if he was attempting to not explode.

"Yes."

"Who? Who sent you it?" I could tell that he already knew, which led me to more questions.

"A society.

"Which. Society." He was not even asking anymore.

"The… Anagram Society."

"And why did they send you this letter, little Iero?"

"Be-because I did a fa-fa-favor for them." I stuttered.

I knew it! He already knew! Why was he putting me through this torture of admitting it? This was pain! This was agony. This was an unbearable agony.

"And what, may I ask, was this favor you have done?"

"I k-k-killed Frank Iero, S-Sr."

"Yes, you did." He grinned menacingly. "And do you know who Frank Iero, Sr. was?"

"My-my Dad?"

"Oh, very good, Iero! But guess what? That isn't all to your story. No, not even close. Would you like to hear the rest?"

I gulped quietly, and he laughed, holding my wrist in his hand. His then began to poke into the skin with his knife, leaving dots of blood all over the surface.

"Let me tell you then," he smirked. "I bet you always wondered, little Frank, why your Daddy always left. Why he was never home. Well, that's because he had another family. He had a beautiful family with a wife and a son and they all lived each day, waiting for their Dad to come home from his first family. The first family, was yours. He, of course, loved the second far more. The first wife, your mother, was a bitch. He killed her and then tortured the deserving son for the rest of his life to show him exactly how much he hated him and his mother.

"You see, your mother found out about this second family and was very angry about this. She was heartbroken and depressed and yelled at her husband, or your Daddy. She was such a bitch, in fact, that she was put on The List. One of our hunters, however, mistook her for the second family's wife, and killed her instead. This made the Father furious and took final care of his first wife. That's how she actually died, little Ier-hoe."

He kept up his business with the knife while I wriggled and cried and listened, horrorstruck. I could not come up with a response, and so he continued his story.

"You are probably waiting for the plot twist, aren't you, Iero? Well, here it is; I am the second family's son. And you killed my Father. And now I am going to make you pay back because I know something that you. Don't."

I felt like I was going to throw up. This information… I had never even heard of it until now. I was just a kid when this all happened, I didn't mean any harm. But, I supposed that it was far to late now. I had to hold my stomach, quite literally, in order to not vomit all over James' floor. It took everything in me not to scream in tears.

I attempted to say, "What?" but nothing came out.

"I am going to use this insight that I have to destroy you. First, I will take care of business, then become a hero to the Society. I will use my power to add your name to The List. And then it will be from the razor to the rosary with you!"

"What?" I tried again, this time making a little noise.

He simply chuckled gruesomely and whispered into my ear, "Gerard Way is on The List."


	33. You Can Say a Prayer if You Need To

"No."

It wasn't true. It simply was not true. Gerard, my Gerard, was NOT on The List. There was no way, not a chance. There had to have been some mistake, I was certain of it. However, the reality was streaming through my veins like venom as I kept denying the truth.

"Oh, but yes, Frank. Isn't it lovely how karma bites back?" James hissed is my ear as he pressed himself against my side, making me feel more and more trapped.

It didn't make sense! Why was Gerard Way, of all people, on The List. What could he have possibly ever done to earn a place on that dreaded imaginary paper? Only vicious villains or the mortal enemies of high-up TAS members had there names inscribed there, to never be erased.

"I… I don't believe you," I tried. My voice was hoarse and croaked from viciously struggling to retain the tears that were stinging the back of my throat.

"Then," James began, "I suppose you had better wake up from your little fantasy land and realize that your sweet, precious little Gerard, isn't as innocent as you think he is."

No. I mean, I knew about his drinking and drug abuse problems, although I frequently try to overlook them, but he could never, would never, do something worthy of death. Even if he were to, his attackers would have to get through me first, and I would not go down without one hell of a fight.

"No." I repeated. "No. No, no, no, no, NO!"

Everything hit me in a tidal wave, sending me crashing to the ocean floor. I was stumbling, tumbling, being pushed and shoved from shore to shore. The room was spinning, sending me off balance and confused. I needed some sense. More than that, I needed sensible responses; sensible facts. And when smarts comes into play only one name comes to the mind: Mikey Way.

Before my mind could process the movement, my feet sent me flying out of James' house, allowing my ears to pick up the yelling that was calling me back to the home I had just ran from. It was funny if James had thought I would return.

Important situations. I am sure that everyone in the world has had at least one at some point in their life. Some people would even call them "emergencies." During these crises, we often loose sight of the little things. Some might forget their cell phone, or their earbuds. However, sometimes we forget common courtesy. It just does not seem like it is that important to wipe your feet off on the doormat before entering your home if your sister-in-law in having spasmodic convulsions on the dining room carpet.

This all being said, I think it is reasonable to ask Michael Way's forgiveness for promptly barging into his house, flinging the door open rather violently in the act, and sprinting to the younger Way brother's room. Nevertheless, I believe that he came to understand that this was a state of emergency by my panic.

"Mikey!" I exclaimed, running into his arms as if we were best friends.

We weren't, only having talked a very select amount of times, and each conversation between us being about Gerard. But, in this moment, we might as well have been best friends. I was a social loser who gets himself in deep, deep holes, and Mikey is an ingenious nerd, so why on Earth not?

"Whoa, Frank, what's up?" Mikey asked, sounding concerned as he finally found his balance after I practically attacked him.

"G-Gerard!" I stammered, as I thought about how I really should come talk to Mikey one day when we weren't having a core meltdown situation about his elder brother.

Mikey asked me potently, "What about Gerard?"

I took a deep breath and regained my leftover courage. I was getting really low on it, and dreaded the day when I would completely run out of courage. I just hoped that that time would come after this whole dilemma had been properly sorted out and finished with. Maybe then I would have even a second for peace of mind.

Instead, I pushed those thoughts away and calmly, yet determinately, I questioned, "What do you know about The Anagram Society, Mikey?"

Once the question was out, there was no taking it back. I started to regret it, just a bit. I began to think, what if he has absolutely no idea what I'm talking about? After all, why had I even thought to ask this? Why had I assumed that Mikey would know anything about The Anagram Society, anyways?

But the more I turned the past over in my mind, the more I began to believe that he did, in fact, know about The Society; and he knew a lot, at that. I could imagine that he was very well informed of what this was.

When you look at Mikey, you see a skinny, intelligent kid. However, if you look closer, you can find that edginess that suggests that he knows something that you simply do not. It's that kind of logic that made me suspicious of what he truly knows. I suppose that this is why the question leaked itself out from my lips.

"Frank, let me be clear," he began, making eye contact to ensure that I was paying close attention, "I don't know what you have been informed with about this organization, but it is not to be fooled with, let me assure you."

"I know that, believe me. The fate of Gerard, you, James, all of us, lies in my hands. I need whatever information you can give me." I explained gravely.

"What have you gotten yourself into?" he replied with a softer touch.

I smiled sadly, feeling despair wash over me, "I wish that I knew."

Mikey returned my sad grin before returning to the subject at hand. He turned to a bookshelf and pulled a thin, black binder from its place. The younger brother sat himself down in his chair, opening the plastic cover that had the word, "history" scribbled down as a label in silver Sharpie. What a clever cover for such a dark book.

"I keep most of the insight I have on The Society in this binder, but it is extremely vague; for privacy reasons, of course. I can't have someone just walk in here snooping through my bookshelf and accidently discover a horrible secret, can I?" I shook my head, no. He gave a weak laugh and continued.

"So there are only plain bulletpoints that aren't hard for me to comprehend, since I have already been exposed to the knowledge. However, this won't do much use to you, I'm afraid. And I cannot write it down, for the fear that the paper might fall into the wrong hands and the wrong minds. Some people aren't meant to know these things, Frank. I am truly sorry that this has all imposed itself on you," the skinny boy sorrowfully apologized, whilst giving me an apologetic look.

"Unfortunately, such is life. Now, on with the details. Mind checking the hallway, just to be sure that no one else will hear?"

I nodded and escaped the room to scope out the rest of the quaint house. After I had given it a brief, but thorough check, I returned to Mikey's bedroom and sat on his bed, awaiting his speech.

"The Society," he started, "was founded hundreds of years ago by a man named Claudius Darius. Darius was extremely brilliant and excelled in his schoolwork far beyond what anyone had ever gotten in academics before. His knowledge, however, blinded his creative eye, and therefore only allowed him to see the scientific and factual matters in life. He questioned others, only wanting to learn more from his peers, but others assumed him to be bragging his talents. This made Claudius rather unpopular as a child and teenager.

"As Claudius matured, he grew farther and farther away from other people and, with the aid of his scientific lifestyle, farther away from emotions and feelings as well. He grew to be a numb man, sterilized from all opinions and emotions. One day, while it was dark and in the city, he cracked. Claudius broke and rampaged through the alleyways, savagely murdering many innocent people. And he smiled, as he was so desensitized that the looks on their faces did not take any effect on him at all.

"After a while, Claudius gathered a gang of henchman to aid him in his morbid and senseless work. Since he was so intelligent, he chose to communicate with his workers in anagrams and showed them how to create expert word puzzles that were impossible to decode by anyone outside of the group. After a while, he made slightly more sense to his kills and charted out a list of people from his childhood that had taunted him. This later became the first List. But Claudius had to be careful about who went on it, as he had to plan out each life's ending. So, he made a criteria that is still followed to-day.

"The criteria is simple, really. And pay attention to this closely. The victims must have caused a defense to the member that mortally wounded them either mentally or physically. Secondly, the victim must be informed that they are on The List, this one is very important. They must be notified beforehand. Lastly, the victim must be armed to fight back. And since Claudius had collected so many henchmen, only one nomination was allowed per member."

"Is the criteria part of the box that James gives out? If so, why did I receive one?" I butted in, intently focused on the conversation.

"Yes," he replied, "Very good logic, Frank. You received a box because James mistook your name for your father's. This is especially why things are frantic around The Society at the moment. There are rumors that your father's death may have been against the criteria, meaning the death penalty for anyone involved in his case. This would include you, Gerard, James, and many others that you most likely did not even know were present in the case."

"There were others?" I asked in disbelief.

"See? They're everywhere, Frank. But back to the subject. Many believe that the death of Frank Iero, Sr. was against the code. While he certainly met the first point, it is unsure at the moment whether he was informed and/or given arms in defense."

"How did he make The List?" I interrupted once again.

"Gerard put his name on there. The Anagram Society approved of his charges and swiftly added him to The List. That's the thing about The Society; they turn against each other. Since Claudius did not put a rule about not being allowed to submit fellow members, it is considered okay to do so."

"And Gerard is on that List…" I trailed off.

"Yes-" Mikey began.

I cut him off with a frenzied, "And I'm not with him! Why am I not with him! Thank-you, Mikey, but I have to go… see him. I could never repay you, but I'll find a way to try." I spoke at light-speed as I tried to gather myself and run out the door.

"Frank, wait!" Mikey called from the doorway.

I turned my head back to wave at him, and possibly say goodbye once more, but he began another sentence.

"There's something about killing a Society member that you have to know!" he called, desperately trying to stop me.

"I'll figure it out!" I yelled back, making headway for Gerard.

"Frank!" I heard him call one last time before my thoughts stopped existing and all that I was focused on was reaching Gerard and making sure that he was safe.


End file.
